Running Water
by Perspex13
Summary: "What do you weigh, a buck twenty soaking wet? How the hell did you think you survived getting shot in the heart?" An AU that picks up during 4x10 (Cuffed) and takes a serious left turn from there.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Running Water

Rating: T

Timeline: Picks up during 4x10 (Cuffed) and takes a serious left turn from there.

Summary: "What do you weigh, a buck twenty soaking wet? How the hell did you think you survived getting shot in the heart?"

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. But my thanks to those who created them and let us play. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Back when I finished Breaking Away, I mentioned a bizarre AU story. This is it. It's a bit of an experiment in style and tone, so apologies if it's a little too odd to take. Two notes to get started:

1\. Italics: unless included in a quote, these indicate the thoughts of the person identified at the top of each section. So, Castle's thoughts kick off the story below, but we'll switch to Beckett as soon as he gets into trouble.

2\. Balance: The story starts with a focus on Castle, but it'll shift over the chapters.

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* * *

 **Castle**

 _A tiger! A freaking tiger! I've always admired Poe and this seems like something right up his alley, but I was hoping to win his award, not find myself in one of his novels. Of course, I've finally got Beckett in cuffs, so something had to go wrong._

"Castle! Focus!" Beckett says with a tug on the hand she's holding to prevent the cuffs from further chafing their wrists. "We've got about 30 seconds to figure something out. If we can't move this freezer, we're in trouble."

"On it," Castle replies, reaching in to grab some of the chains from the freezer. With the first tug, he knows it's futile – these are heavy enough that moving them would take more time than they have, and being hobbled by the cuffs guarantees failure. _This is Beckett!_ he reminds himself. He'll move the chains by force of will if necessary. He's not willing to trust in his last resort until it's, well, the last resort.

Somehow, they work out a system to unload the chains. _Should've known we'd find a way._ As the pile on the floor grows, he wonders if they need to remove everything before trying to move the chest.

"Do you think that's enough?" Beckett heaves next to him.

 _God, I'm tired. I don't enough have enough energy to focus on watching Beckett pant_.

Somehow, they manage to tip the freezer on its end, scrambling up just before the tiger bursts through the hole in the wall and stretches tall enough to nearly reach them as they dance awkwardly around the top of the freezer.

The tiger circles as their possibilities for escape dwindle, testing her reach and threatening to overturn the freezer.

As their voices grow hoarse, Castle knows they're running out of options. "Screaming like little girls didn't quite do the trick," Beckett chides, her tone laden with exhaustion and desperation. And fear. "Castle, I did not survive a bullet to the heart to die as tiger kibble," Beckett says while looking around for some way out.

 _That's it, Castle. You're out of time – time to go all in and hope that you're around to sort out the messy details later._

"I'm so sorry," Castle says as he wraps his arms around Beckett from behind.

"Castle! Let go!" Beckett cries out at the sudden loss of movement. "We need to grab those pipes! She's going to knock the freezer over!"

"Kate," Castle says urgently. "If this works, you've got to get me to the water. Pier 32, Slip 47. I'll be dead within an hour if you don't get me there."

"What are you talking about?" Beckett yells as she struggles to break free without knocking them off balance.

"No hospitals, no precinct, no delay, or no Castle. Just get me to Slip 47," Castle repeats. "Say it."

"Pier 32, Slip 47," Beckett parrots back, hoping that he'll start making sense if she plays along.

 _Might as well go out in style._

"Actually," Castle says, pushing his luck, "You'll probably kill me if this works, and Shere Khan will eat us if it doesn't, so here goes," he says before laying a passionate kiss on a surprised Beckett, who barely has time to respond before he pulls back. "Love you, Kate."

 _Damn it, I should've told her I had to be touching her skin for this to work_.

His thoughts end abruptly as the freezer tips, they both scream, and their vision blurs to nothingness.

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _I'm in hell. He told me he loves me and kissed me, and this is what we get._

Beckett blinks as she slowly wakes in a strange place for the second time today. Tugging her wrist, she finds herself still shackled to her partner. This time, though, he's not waking up.

Rolling over, she takes a quick survey. Her leg hurts and her wrist is still chafed, but she's blessedly unbitten. Beckett kneels over her partner as she takes in her surroundings. The flash of red and blue lights through the windows confirms that the cavalry has finally arrived, just moments too late. As she hears the distant megaphoned voice telling people to get their hands up, Beckett turns to her partner.

"Castle," she coaxes, rubbing his cheek in an effort to wake him, switching to light pats when he doesn't stir. _Come on, sleeping beauty, wake up and tell me how we got here_. With a devilish look, she decides to push her princess analogy further and shock him awake.

Castle's eyes blink open at Beckett's kiss. It should be sweet, but Beckett's immediately concerned. _Unequal pupil dilation, distant look, slow tracking, and inability to focus_. "Castle, can you talk?"

"Jonas," he whispers, "get me to Jonas."

"Beckett! Castle! You in here?" Esposito's voice calls out, echoing through the building.

"Here!" she shouts. "Come on, Castle, get up. You've got to help me explain this."

"Floor," he mumbles. "Trap door."

Rolling him to his side, Beckett sees that they are indeed laying on top of a trap door. _Thanks, Castle. Nice of you to point this out when we were on the other side. But how did we get up here?_

The door is locked tight, providing no answers for their narrow escape. She has the presence of mind to unlock the latch just as Esposito and Ryan round into view, weapons drawn but looking frantic.

"You okay?" Ryan asks as he comes near, leaving Esposito to ensure that there are no other perps in the area.

"I need a car," Beckett says quickly. "Castle's hurt. They drugged us and he's having some kind of reaction," Beckett improvises an explanation. "He's got a doctor near here but I've got to get him moving. Please, Kevin!"

Hearing his boss' plea galvanizes Ryan. "Let's go," he says as he unlocks Beckett's wrist. "I've got this side. Javi, get the cruiser ready."

As they lift Castle to his feet and drag him toward the exit, Beckett fires off as much as an explanation as she can. "There's a tiger down there, Ryan." Not pausing to answer his stuttering, she presses on. "It nearly got us, but we managed to climb up and escape through the trap door. Be careful, don't hurt her."

 _That tiger pushed our relationship further than Castle or I have managed in the last six months – having her shot wouldn't be a good omen._

Struggling up to the car, they try to gently stretch Castle across the back seat, but their effort ends with him flopping into the car and rolling halfway off the seat. _No time to waste, he said, and the longer we're here, the more likely someone will slow us down._

"You need to get out of here," Esposito warns. "Gates is here and she's not happy. We'll cover for you, but you'd better get moving."

Beckett jumps into the driver's seat as Ryan manages to pull Castle into a sitting position and get him belted in. The car's already in gear as he closes the door and pats the roof.

 _This had better work, Castle. I need you and Gates is going to kill me for leaving the scene._

Beckett's anxiety ramps up as she careens through the streets of New York, heading toward the wharf. Luckily, they weren't far away, so precious few minutes have passed when she squeals to a stop in the parking area of Pier 32.

Opening the back door, Beckett looks at her partner. His eyes are closed and he's pale, barely sitting upright in the back of the cruiser.

 _Faker._

"I'm not kissing you awake this time, Castle. Next time, you'd damn well better be awake for it."

* * *

 **Castle**

 _So it wasn't my imagination_.

Struggling to open his eyes, Castle fumbles several times to get his seatbelt unlatched. His arm is sluggish and his hand's not working quite right, but he'll be fine if they can just get to Jonas.

The smile that Beckett wore when calling her partner on his ruse slid off her face when she realized that his pathetic efforts to exit the car were genuine.

"Come on, Castle," she says gently, holding out her hand. Even with her help, he's barely able to rise from the car and he nearly topples them both when he's standing.

 _Always falling for you, Beckett._

Beckett's gasp tells him that she finally noticed his injury. The puddle of blood from his tiger-mauled calf was a bit of a clue. To be fair to her, though, he's only just lost the concentration that was holding the wound closed. _Espo's going to be pissed about the mess._

"Oh, Castle," Beckett moans while craning to look at his legs while holding him up. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"No time," he croaks. "'Splain later."

With a shuffling gait that would lose ground to a distracted octogenarian, Castle starts them moving toward Slip 47. He's too exhausted to notice, much less enjoy, Beckett's supporting arm around his waist that keeps him pressed to her side.

As their progress grows even slower as they pass Slip 40, Beckett starts to wonder if they'd move faster with help. "Castle, should I run ahead and get Jonas to help?"

"No," Castle whispers as he focuses on plodding forward. "Hates you."

Beckett's stumble belies her surprise at Castle's terse comment. She's not generally concerned with what people think about her, but the thought that someone she's never met hates her catches her by surprise.

 _She deserves to know. Can't let her walk in blind._

"He kept me alive," Castle pants out, exhausted by the effort to walk, talk, and think simultaneously. "This summer, when you were killing me."

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _What a drama queen. How is a drinking buddy going to help us?_

Not letting her apprehension about Jonas slow her down, Beckett continues to prop Castle up while they stumble on. The occasional thump of metal against her side reminds her that Ryan only unlocked her cuff – Castle's still shackled, the empty cuff dangling from his wrist.

"Hey Castle," she says, trying to use her light words to help raise his spirits and keep them moving, "Do you think anyone watching us thinks you're an intelligence asset whose handcuffed briefcase has been stolen?"

 _Come on, Castle. React. Show me you're still in there._

"Pffft," Castle manages after a few more steps. "Nuclear codes," he mumbles. "Way cooler."

Smiling irrationally, Beckett looks ahead to see the outline of a large white boat moored in Slip 47. "Boat" is about all she knows – it's probably got a more accurate description, but all she knows is that it floats and it's big – it looks like something that could be chartered for a day of game fishing. There's a raised bridge and a cabin below. Big enough for someone to live in, so they're probably about to arrive at the home of Castle's friend.

"Jonas?" Beckett calls out, hoping for help with Castle. "Jonas, are you there?"

She cheers as lights come on and a figure stumbles out from below.

 _That's him?_

Jonas – if that's him – looks like he was just woken by her call and isn't happy about it. Short, pear-shaped and probably in his 50s, he's wearing a garish, faded blue and white Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned, over a white tank top that's shiny with accumulated grease, sweat, and suntan lotion. His cargo shorts are only slightly less dirty. But it's his head that commands her attention. His unruly white-grey hair shoots out wildly in all directions, as if he'd just jammed a fork into an electrical socket. His eyes are strange – large and wide, but pushed in by swollen brows and cheekbones. A bulbous nose, dimpled chin, and ruddy complexion complete the look.

Looking around to see who called his name, the man's eyes fall on Beckett and Castle and a rictus snarl mars his face.

"What the hell'd you do to him this time?" Jonas growls.

 _Castle must've really unloaded on me to this jackass._

"We were trapped," she says as she swallows a much more pointed response. "He got us out, somehow, but said I had to get him right to you."

"Damn right," Jonas says gruffly as he steps onto the pier. Approaching from the far side, Jonas scoops Castle up and wrenches him away from Beckett, who's flummoxed both by the little man's strength and his overpowering dislike of her.

"I've got it from here," Jonas says as he lifts his leg to carry Castle onto the boat, "As usual. Run along, princess."

 _Like hell. That's my partner and I don't know you. Prepare to be boarded, bastard._

"Jonas, she comes, too," Castle whispers. "Be nice."

"Fuck that," Jonas tosses out as he climbs aboard, turning sideways to get Castle through the door to the boat's cabin. "We're leaving in five minutes. Get aboard or get lost. Phone's over there," Jonas tosses over his shoulder as he takes Castle out of sight.

 _The phone – oh, this just keeps getting worse. Might as well bite the bullet while my new pal Jonas gets us ready to go… wherever it is we're going._

Just before she steps aboard, Beckett notices the boat's name: _Writer Buoy_. Nice. Swallowing her smirk and gathering her resolve, Beckett dials the phone, grimacing when Gates answers her call.

"Captain, I'm sorry to have left so abruptly, but I had to get Castle some medical attention. We're with his… caretaker now, but something's not right," she rambles, trying to keep control of the conversation.

"You do realize, detective, that EMTs were on their way to the scene? The scene that you never called in and were lucky we found?" Gates hammers, as Beckett knew she would.

"Time was of the essence, sir, and Castle's physician lives nearby," Beckett says, trying to sound both contrite and polite. "We're on our way to get more help."

"Tell his doctor that we found bottles of Ketamine and Xylazine where you were held," Gates says, sounding only slightly less angry. "They're tranquilizers that a veterinarian would use to sedate a large animal. Like a horse, or, say, a tiger."

"I will, sir," Beckett replies, anxious to keep this conversation moving so that it concludes before Jonas fires up the engines and causes all sorts of problems. He's already jumped off the boat to untie the lines holding them in place

"Keep us posted, detective. Barring any unfortunate developments, I expect to see you in my office tomorrow at 8:00 to give a statement and to hear you defend how you chose to pursue this _investigation,_ " Gates laces the last word with disdain to let Beckett know that she doesn't think much of how this case was handled _._ "Oh, and we'll also talk about some new protocols that you've inspired."

 _Fabulous. But not my biggest concern right now._

"Yes, sir, 8:00," Beckett replies. _Just let me go, already!_

"I'll see you in the morning, detective. Along with your wallets and phones, I have your gun and badge – depending on how things go in the morning, you might get them back. Best wishes to Mr. Castle," Gates says in a flat tone as she disconnects the call.

 _Castle, I'd kill you if you hadn't somehow saved us. Oh, crap – that's another tally on his 'saved you more' scorecard._

Replacing the handset in the cradle, Beckett's nearly knocked aside by Jonas as he jumps back aboard and heads up to get them moving. He's muttering to himself as he starts the engines, clearly unhappy about her presence. But he's keeping his snide comments to himself, so Castle must've said something to him.

Deciding that it's well past time to check on Castle, Beckett starts to move toward the cabin when Jonas hits the throttle and sends her stumbling with the sudden acceleration. Shooting him an annoyed look, she's unsurprised to see his satisfied smirk before he turns back to guide them out into the river.

* * *

 **Castle**

"Castle? Are you decent?" Beckett asks with a light knock that's nearly drowned out by the rattle of the inboard engine.

 _No, but it's good to have life goals._

"C'min," Castle tries to call out from his prone position on the bunk, but the pocket door is already sliding open with Beckett's concern overriding her sense of decorum.

"Castle, we've got to get you cleaned and wrapped," she says, growing concerned about the red stain that's already seeping through the nasty towel that Jonas wrapped around Castle's leg. Beckett grimaces as she inspects the towel, which looks like it wasn't washed after Jonas used it to wipe his hands after gutting the last batch of fish he landed. Gently, she reaches out, stroking his healthy left leg with one hand while reaching for the towel with her right.

 _What I wouldn't give for this when I was healthy. But not now._

"Stop," Castle grunts. Beckett whips her hands back from him as if burned.

"Gotta concentrate. Can't when you touch me. Never could," he confesses. Being on the water is helping, but he overdid it with the tiger and he's still paying for it.

Giving him a sad, sweet smile, Beckett asks "What can I do?"

 _A belly-dance would be nice. Maybe a lullaby. But just stay, Beckett. Stay._

"Hold my hand?" Castle contradicts himself, unable to resist the siren call of her touch. She doesn't give him trouble about the reversal, instead scooting over so that she can cradle his hand while sitting on the edge of the bunk.

"Castle, where are we going?" she asks gently.

"The confluence," he answers. Though it doesn't satisfy her curiosity, Beckett holds her tongue as she watches her partner fall into a light doze.

* * *

 **Beckett**

The sudden decrease in ambient noise when the inboard motor cuts off alerts her to their arrival at wherever they are. Letting go of Castle's hand, she kisses it quickly, then blushes at her foolishness and quickly rests it on the bunk next to him before slipping out to go another round with Jonas.

"Are we at the confluence?" she asks, happy to act as if she knows what's going on. Jonas is bustling at a locker at the stern, extracting something while his back is to Beckett.

 _He must not have anything nice to say, since he's saying nothing at all._

Straightening and slamming the lid of the locker, Jonas moves over to a cleat and secures the end of what looks like a waterskiing tow line.

 _If this is all some prelude to a crazy "waterskiing in the moonlight" lark of Castle's, I'm going to toss everyone else overboard and set a course for the Caribbean._

Her musings are broken by the sound of the sliding door behind her. Her shock stops her mid-turn. Castle's up and shuffling again, naked except for the cuffs and the dark grey boxer-briefs that cling to him and don't leave much to the imagination.

 _When did Castle start working out? He looks – really, really tasty. I mean good. He looks good._

Feeling guilty for her slow perusal of his body, her eyes finally make their way up to his face where she sees that his exhaustion hasn't prevented his smirk.

"Now we're even," he whispers as he shuffles by her, moving to the back of the boat. "And I didn't even lose my loft to a 'splosion."

"Lose the shorts, then we'll be even. But you can leave the cuffs," Beckett replies before her eyes reflect the shock at her own audacity.

 _What am I doing? Castle's hurt, his friend is nipping at me like a distrustful shepherd, and we're bobbing in the dark middle of nowhere. Focus!_

Any further playful thoughts fall away as Castle moves past her and provides a direct look at his right calf. The tiger's claws raked three deep furrows from the back of his knee to his ankle. "Oh, Castle, how can you even walk?"

"Walking's easy," he groans as he sits on the side of the boat and Jonas hands him the handle-end of the tow line. "It's swimming that'll sting," he says as he leans backward and plunges into the frigid, black water.

 _What the hell?!_

"Castle!" Beckett yells as she vaults over to where he'd been sitting. Looking over the edge of the boat, she sees nothing but the broken reflections of the boat's running lights.

"He'll freeze to death!" she shouts as she reaches for the spool of line that's running out, as if Castle's a hooked yellowfin making a break for freedom.

Beckett's just about to grab the line when Jonas' steel grip shackles her wrist, right where her cuff chafed her earlier today. "He's where he needs to be. We wait," he says gruffly, releasing her wrist but moving to stand directly between Beckett and the tow line.

"How long?" Beckett asks, impatient while imagining the bacteria that must be swarming Castle's wound right now, assuming that shock hasn't already forced him to drop the line and sink beneath the waves.

"Less than three months, so shut yer yap," Jonas snarls in response.

 _It's a good thing Gates has my gun, or I'd use it to get some straight goddamn answers._

"What is your problem?" she shoots words, since bullets are unavailable to her. "I've never even met you and you've been a complete prick since we showed up."

"My problem?" Jonas replies with a nasty laugh. "My problem is that I'm sick of cleaning up your goddamn messes. You want to kill him? Just feed him a fucking bullet. If you don't want to kill him, show him some goddamn gratitude."

"I haven't done anything to Castle!" Beckett yells in response. _Well, that's not true, but I'm not getting into it with you._

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, if it helps you sleep at night. But we both know that he's the only reason you lived through the summer," Jonas challenges.

 _What bullshit._ "I didn't even _see_ him this summer," Beckett seethes in response. _Fine. He felt bad, I get it. But I had a goddamn hole in me, so I win._

"What do you weigh, a buck twenty soaking wet?" Jonas sneers with a leer. "How the hell did you think you survived getting shot in the heart?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Beckett fires back, still aggressive but now confused.

Jonas checks his watch. "Jog in place or do jumping jacks or something and you'll see."

 _Pervert. I'm not flouncing about for your entertainment_.

"Goddamn, you're even more self-obsessed than I thought you'd be," Jonas asks with disgust, apparently reading her response to his suggestion. "Get your heart-rate up, princess, and you'll have your answer. I'll be at the wheel," he finishes. She hates the way he punctuated his departure with an eye roll and wonders if Castle feels the same sting when she cuts him off in the same way.

 _This whole day's been surreal. What the hell, might as well get my heart rate up – might help me lose some of this tension, or at least stop me from belting that jerk._

Feeling more than a little ridiculous, Beckett starts with some stretches and push-ups, moving to squats and jogging in place. Exercising late at night on a rocking boat while wearing heels is a great core workout, so she's managed to get a light pant going when she hears splashing.

The rhythmic rocking of the boat changes a bit as Castle pulls himself up the port-side ladder at the stern. He's just standing when Jonas fires up the engine, letting the water sluice down his skin. After shaking his head like a dog to dry his hair, Castle hops the rail, tosses the cuffs to her, then turns his back to Beckett as he starts to pull in the tow line, looping it in his left hand while pulling in more line with his right.

 _No – that can't be._

His arms are still swinging as he retrieves the line when Beckett kneels behind him. Leaning forward, she runs a hand up Castle's whole and unblemished right calf. Not only are the gouges gone, but his skin is warm to the touch, as if he just stepped out of a warm bath rather than a frigid river.

Her touch startled him to stillness, but he restarts and continues to coil the line until Jonas calls out.

"We ready?" Jonas yells from up above, sounding like a normal person for the first time since Beckett met him.

"Make it happen, Captain!" Castle calls back happily as he uncleats the line and returns it to the locker.

Castle turns to face the bow as the boat begins to plow forward on the return trip to Pier 32. Beckett rises to demand an explanation, but she doesn't get that far. Her eyes move up as she stands, lingering over his wet shorts that now hide even less than they did before. Climbing the ladder of his abs ( _when did that happen?_ ), her eyes lock onto the broad expanse of his chest. Not the whole of his chest, but the dark red shadow in the center that's an exact duplicate of the scar on her chest.

" _Now_ do you believe in magic?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of this chapter.

A/N: Odd story, right? Now that we've kicked it off, I'll agree with the commenters on the tags – the allowance for two categories isn't quite enough for this shaggy dog. I'm hoping for drama and humor, primarily, but the set-up includes some strange combination of sci-fi, fantasy, and maybe some adventure. The "other influences" discussion in the A/N below might provide some insight.

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* * *

 **Castle**

 _Finally._

Beckett's stepped closer to Castle and is touching the scar shadow on Castle's chest. The fading of the mark confuses her, leading to a knit brow. "Where's it going?"

"Your heartrate is falling," Castle explains. "It only shows up on me when it's most apparent on you."

Beckett leans closer, breath puffing on Castle's chest as she tracing the fading imprint with a fingernail.

 _Gotta stop this before I embarrass myself._

"Ah, Beckett?" Castle asks, trying to attract her attention. "I'm wet and it's cold. Maybe I could explain in the cabin?"

 _Nice one, Castle. Now she's guaranteed to check on the source of your discomfort. Actually, maybe that's a good thing. Nice one, Castle!_

Startled out of her examination, Beckett glances down before she looks up and catches his eye with a playful expression. "You don't look cold to me," she smirks. "But I do want an explanation. I take it," she says, voice growing prim, "you don't need help walking to the cabin?"

"Better safe than sorry," Castle grins as he throws an arm across her shoulders for the few steps to the door that leads below.

Pulling a duffle bag from a drawer as they enter the cabin, Castle opens it and withdraws a towel. "Turn around?" Castle asks as he towels off, anxious to lose the wet shorts and get dressed. Pulling some spare boxers and sweatpants from the duffle, he's just stepped out of his wet shorts and has the dry ones half-way up when he catches Beckett peeking from her seat on the bunk.

"Sorry," she says, sounding not at all apologetic. "Close quarters – nowhere else to look."

"It's bigger than your bathroom was," Castle replies, pulling on the sweat pants while recalling the time when he was doing the looking.

"And you've already admitted that you peeked then," Beckett replies with a raised brow.

"Your apartment was on fire!" he objects. "I was just making sure you weren't burning up."

"And I had to make sure you don't have hypothermia. Trust me, Castle," she says with a wink after dropping her eyes again, "it looks like your circulatory system is working just fine."

"It was until this conversation started threatening to give me a heart attack," he grouses, as if they don't both know that he's thrilled with her perusal.

"So, Castle," Beckett says, trying to get them on track. "Is this where you tell me that your long-absent father is actually Poseidon, that you're a demi-god like Percy Jackson?"

"Please, Beckett," he scoffs. "As if I could be only _half_ -god."

 _There we go – there's the eye roll I was looking for._

"The cold water certainly didn't shrink your ego," she relies acerbically. "If not Percy, then maybe you're Katara?"

"Impressive, Detective, wouldn't have pegged you as an Avatar fan," Castle praises. "I was always more partial to Toph, but Katara's pretty hot. Aang hit way out of his weight class there. Inspirational," he says as he looks Beckett up and down.

"Okay, Castle, I'm out of pop culture references. Will you please just tell me what's going on?"

 _Oh, damn, now she sounds upset. I should've known she was joking to hide her discomfort._

"I'm sorry, Kate," Castle says as he sits on the bunk next to her. Looking around the cabin, he's trying to figure out how to start their discussion. Though you'd never expect it from looking at his appearance, Jonas is a pretty fastidious guy when it comes to his living space. It's a habit borne of necessity when living in the close confines of a boat or in a city where rent is astronomical. Everything is neatly stowed, with only the first aid and emergency kits in their wall brackets catching his eye.

 _Hey, that might work_.

Standing and reaching for the emergency kit, Castle pops it open. Beckett's giving him an inquisitive look – irritated that he hasn't started speaking yet but curious about what he's doing. _The flare gun obviously won't work, nor will the mirror or whistle._ _But here we go – this is perfect_.

Re-stowing the emergency kit, Castle sits back on the bunk and hands a glow-stick to Beckett.

"Thanks?" she replies. "Not interested in a rave tonight, Castle."

"That's me," he says, pointing at the glow-stick.

"Dim and straight? Only good for a few hours? Not quite bright enough to light a room? Cheap and easily obtained?" Beckett postulates with a grin. "Shall I keep guessing?"

 _This is what I get for falling in love with a quick-witted woman_.

"No, thank you," he replies faux peevishly. Taking the glow-stick back, he holds it up in front of them at eye level. "You know how these things work, right? There's a capsule inside. When that capsule breaks," he says as he bends the stick enough to crack the capsule inside, "the glow-stick comes alive. When the capsule breaks, the stick becomes what it was always meant to be."

"I'm not following the analogy," Beckett confesses. "What – you broke a capsule?"

"No," Castle says softly. "I had a capsule inside of me and I started to become what I was meant to be when it broke."

"What does that mean?" Beckett asks again, her eyes falling to the spot on his chest where her scar had appeared.

"It means that I'm capable of more than I ever imagined," Castle says wistfully. He lifts his right foot and rubs his healed calf.

"I still don't understand. So, what, someone hurt you or hit you and you snapped? Now you can… do things?" Beckett asks, looking confused.

 _Bad analogy. Now she's thinking that violence is involved, worried that this is like something she'd encounter at the precinct._

"I'm sorry," Castle says. "I don't really know much about it. My instructor… didn't teach me much this summer. But the way he explained it to me is that some people have latent… abilities… that are revealed after an episode of extreme stress or abuse."

"My shooting," Beckett says, lifting a hand to her scar while again looking at Castle's chest.

"That's how he found me," Castle says quietly, "but it's not what freed me. No, my capsule cracked on our case with Fallon."

"Stress…," Beckett thinks out loud. "When you disarmed the bomb?"

 _Time to take a chance on the truth, Castle._

"Perhaps," Castle replies, shaking his head to show his true thoughts. "But I think it happened when you walked away with Josh."

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _He's not pulling any punches tonight_.

Reaching out to take his hand, Beckett holds it in silence for a few moments. "Please tell me what this means?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"My instructor, Joseph, said that we're called ' _Gammas_.' He didn't know why, but speculated that we're some kind of third evolutionary step," Castle says while staring idly at their linked hands.

 _Right. Castle as the missing link. This is ridiculous._

"Once we're freed – once our capsule breaks – we're capable of amazing things. You saw my calf – that's simple, basically an autonomic response," Castle explains. "As long as I concentrate on an injury, I can heal without really knowing what to do. It's like breathing – you can change how often or how deeply you breathe, but you'll still do it even if you stop thinking about it."

"But we can do so much more, if we know what we're doing. The problem is, there's no manual. And, um, the learning curve is pretty steep," he fumbles. "And learning is dangerous."

 _Oh, no. He keeps talking about his instructor in the past tense._

"What happened?" Beckett asks with concern.

"The glow-stick analogy was apt for another reason," Castle says while running his hand through his wet hair. "When we try to do something, it… shines, I guess you'd say. Unless we've learned to hide it, other Gammas can see us, like a star in the sky or a candle in the dark. The light attracts attention. Predators."

He remains quiet for so long that Beckett almost has to prompt him again before he speaks. "I didn't know what happened at first. You walked away with Josh and I just felt a tear. Things looked weird, like reality had been torn in half, then the pieces were stitched back together slightly out of alignment. I figured it was just a broken heart, just stress after we nearly died so many times in so few days."

 _Oh, Castle, I'll never forget the look on your face from that night._

"I'm sorry, Castle. I'm sorry I hurt you," Beckett whispers. Too choked up to speak for a moment, Castle answers by lifting her hand and gracing it with a gentle kiss.

"When you were shot, I lost it. I grabbed you, told you I loved you, did everything I could to keep you tethered to life, to me," he whispers. "It turns out that I did more than I knew. Kneeling there in the grass, I did something, forged some connection between us. It was apparently a massive outpouring of energy that lit me up like a bonfire to other Gammas. One was waiting for me when I left the hospital."

"Oh, no," Beckett says, raising a hand to her mouth. "What happened? I didn't hear about any confrontation."

"My confrontation had already happened in the hospital," Castle says with a grim laugh, forcing Beckett to knit her brows. _What confrontation? If it involved Castle, then it must've – Josh. Dammit._

"No, I was very, very lucky," Castle continues, unaware of Beckett's mental tangent. "Joseph was at the cemetery with his brother Jonas," Castle says while using his free hand to point at the ceiling, above which Jonas must be piloting their vessel, "visiting their parents' graves. He followed us to the hospital and was waiting when I left."

"Rick, what happened to Joseph?" Beckett asks, knowing that this story doesn't have a happy ending.

"Let me ask you a question, Detective," Castle asks rather than answers, sidling up to his topic. "You've worked a beat, then Vice, then Homicide. You've got a very pragmatic and direct knowledge of human nature, right?"

"In some ways," Beckett replies. "But I think I tend to see only one end of the spectrum, the people who hurt themselves or others. I like to think," she says with both hope and sorrow, "that they're more than balanced out by the people I only get to see among the victims."

 _And among my coworkers._

"What do you think would happen if we changed the laws, or maybe just erased them, so that the killer immediately inherited the wealth of the victim?" Castle asks. "How many would spend their time trying to build rather than destroy?"

"The streets would run red," Beckett murmurs, eyes closed. "I wish I could believe a different answer, but I've done this for too long. It'd be an abattoir."

"That assumes that there's already wealth, already assets to steal through murder," Castle nods. "Now imagine that you're starting from ground zero – in the first round of the game, there's nothing to steal."

"I guess most would start like regular, working toward building a life," Beckett imagines. "But, they'd fall off as the gains made by others look more attractive, easier to steal than to earn."

"Our inherent power doesn't immediately dissipate when we die. It can be absorbed by another Gamma. So, we can study and build our strength slowly over time or we can kill to benefit from the efforts of others immediately. Human nature being what it is, our life expectancy isn't very high. And our abilities are inherited, so we can develop deep internecine conflicts or blood feuds. Kind of makes you nervous as a parent," Castle says with a nonchalant shrug that utterly fails to hide his concern for Alexis.

* * *

 **Castle**

"That's why you were worried about getting to the pier," Beckett follows. "Whatever you did to get us away from the tiger sent up a flare, didn't it? How did coming here help?"

"You must've played tag as a kid, right?" Castle asks with a smile, trying to knock them onto a happier conversational track. "Remember home base, where you were safe from being tagged?" At Beckett's wistful nod, Castle continues. "We all have one – someplace where we can rest and hide, someplace where we're stronger, someplace where we're supposed to feel safe. Mine is proof that the universe has a really perverse sense of humor."

"You mean yours isn't police precincts?" Beckett asks with a squeeze of his hand, sharing in the effort to lighten the mood.

"Kate," he says seriously, causing her to focus on him with wide eyes and attentive ears. "I need you to prepare yourself for a shock. I know that you regard me as the ideal vision of masculine power, an exemplar of strength and virility. But the truth is, I have one small weakness."

 _There's eye roll number two. Going for a record tonight._

Swatting him for his absurd lead-in, Beckett fires off a snarky guess: "Kryptonite?"

"That's for pansies," Castle dismisses with a wave of his hand. "No. I'm… not entirely comfortable on the ocean. It's, ah, a bit of a _thing_ for me."

"A phobia?" Beckett asks.

"Of course not," Castle rejects immediately. "Just a… healthy respect."

"So, that's your home base – the ocean?" Beckett prompts them back on topic.

"Running water," Castle clarifies. "The stronger and more turbulent the better. That's why Jonas took us to where the Hudson and East Rivers meet. I haven't," Castle pauses, "I haven't yet trusted myself on the open ocean."

"What do you mean, 'trusted?'" Beckett asks. "I thought we brought you here to heal."

"We did," Castle clarifies. "But I'm stronger here, for healing or resting or anything else. Things haven't gone well on land, so I'm not confident about trying anything on the ocean."

" _Haven't gone well." Nice understatement._ _She won't be satisfied with that explanation._

"Hey, Rick?" Beckett asks gently. "You know me, right? Would you ever have expected that I'd listen to this story without pushing back? You're talking about _magic_ and I'm just sitting here taking it all in. So, tell me everything. What happened, Castle?"

 _Here we go…_

"I don't have the slightest idea what I'm doing," Castle confesses. "Joseph was killed, so I've got no instructor, and the only times I've managed to do anything functionally right is when someone's life was in danger," he says in a low whisper, head bowed by the weight of his failures. "I'm a time bomb, Beckett, and I'm just waiting for someone to come and pull out my wires."

"Come on, Castle," Beckett chides, "you've faced setbacks and rejections before. You just need some practice. We'll spend some time on this fancy boat and get you up to speed."

"You like my boat, Beckett?" Castle asks with a huff. "Don't get too attached. It's the third one."

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _The third one? I'll get an explanation, but after cheering him up._

"Castle, you're rich and you have superpowers – what do a few boats matter? I'd expect you to be shouting from the mountaintops!"

Chuffing a little, Castle tries to rouse himself. "It is cool, Beckett, don't get me wrong. I'm just too strong for a novice, so my mistakes tend to be considerable. It goes back to Joseph," he explains. "He found me at the hospital, got me out of there and told me what was going on. He agreed to help me learn. There aren't many good Gammas, but I was lucky enough to be found by one of the best," Castle says with a fond smile. "Even if his brother is a bit… irascible."

"I'm glad he found you," Beckett says. "Especially since I wasn't a good friend to you then."

"He was a good man," Castle praises, again not responding to Beckett's comment about last summer. "His lessons helped, but so did the mystery."

 _What mystery?_

Noting her inquisitive look, Castle explains. "Joseph didn't know what I did to you, what happened to cause such a burst when we were at the cemetery. He was intrigued and wanted to figure it out. It became a little more clear when the scar showed up, or the nightmares, or the hunger," he says with his head down, risking a cautious look up at Beckett.

 _No. That can't be._

"You had nightmares?" Beckett whispers, even though she's not sure she wants to talk about this.

"I had your nightmares," Castle confesses, "when I wasn't having my own. On bad nights, I got a double bill, reliving the cemetery from both perspectives," he says with a defeated huff.

 _Oh, Castle, why didn't you say anything?_

"And the hunger? I wasn't eating much, then," Beckett probes.

"I was," Castle replies. "But my weight still plummeted. I went to my doctor and that jackass asked if I was pregnant."

" _What?_ " Beckett asks, glad for the ridiculous inquiry to break the mood.

"He said my lab results resembled those of a malnourished pregnant woman," Castle huffs. "But his explanation answered some of the mystery. Biologically, we're programmed to protect our young. A baby takes whatever it needs to survive, even if the mother has nothing to spare. Our biology gives preference to new life. So, just as a baby takes what it needs from the mother…" Castle says, before Beckett interjects.

"I took what I needed from you," Beckett concludes. _There's the title of my autobiography_. "That's why you looked so gaunt at the book signing?"

"Gaunt?" Castle replies. "I was looking great by then, thanks to the independent efforts of Alexis and Jonas. If you think I was gaunt then, it's a good thing you didn't see me earlier."

"How can you say that?" Beckett replies with a strident voice. "If you're right, it's my fault you looked like that! Of course I should've seen it, should've known. Why didn't you tell me?"

"We weren't exactly talking, Beckett," Castle replies harshly, pulling his hand back.

 _Oh. Right._

"It's probably a good thing we didn't talk," Castle says after a few minutes of silence, "or at least that we didn't see each other. I was in a bad place. The shooting, obviously," he says in reply to her look, "but Joseph's death, too."

"At the same time?" Beckett asks, feeling even worse for Castle knowing that he lost his friend at the same time she'd retreated to the cabin.

"It was only our second session," Castle remembers. "We were upstate in a park. I'd stand in the creek to help hide me while Joseph tried to teach," Castle says with a small smile. "He was patient and had a good sense of humor. I don't think I was his first student, but he wouldn't answer any questions on that topic, always deflecting with a story or an instruction."

 _Imagine that – someone deflecting personal inquiries with stories or humor_. _I wonder why that sounds so familiar._

"It clouded up and started to rain," Castle continues, losing the wistful tone and growing somber. "We were excited to see if that would register as another form of running water. We didn't stop to think that it might be someone else's element." After a short pause, Castle continues with a quiet, flat voice. "We never even saw her coming. We were looking up at the sky when I heard a terrible gurgling sound that I'll never forget. I looked at Joseph and he was floating a foot off the ground, stretched in place as if being quartered by invisible ropes. She didn't even consider me a threat – just walked up to Joseph and reached right into his chest. With a quick twist of her wrist, she tore his heart free from the inside."

Beckett shivers as she listens to his voice and imagines the scene. It sounds like a nightmare she's had, where she's held in place by unseen bonds as some nameless, faceless threat grows ever nearer. She always wakes with a flare of pain from her scar, right where her invisible assailant starts to stab her chest. Just recalling the dream makes her shudder again.

"You know how your suspects always talk about seeing red or being blinded by rage?" Castle asks, waiting for her nod. "I know what they're talking about. She turned to come for me and it all just exploded – Joseph's murder, your shooting, what would happen to Alexis if I didn't make it, everything – I just howled and threw my hand out. I was watching her face and I remember the change in her expression as it fell from haughty to confused. We both looked down at the same time to see the fist-sized hole through her chest. I'm a killer, Beckett," he confesses miserably. "I killed her."

"No, Castle, no," Beckett tries to soothe him. "You defended yourself. You protected yourself against someone who had just killed your friend and was going to do the same to you."

 _He's staring at his hands like he expects to see blood stains. Or like he's afraid to look at me._

"This doesn't change anything, Castle," she says, trying to coax a response. "You're still my partner, still the man I've come to trust above all others. Don't let her change that."

When Castle remains quiet, Beckett tries to think of what she can do, both for him and to address her own curiosity. "What about the case files? I could get the files on the murders and we could work them, see what we could find out about her, see if she killed others."

"There are no case files," Castle finally speaks. "Because there were no bodies. When we're killed by another Gamma, we're gone. Entirely," he says quietly. "And I know she's killed many others. She's in me, Beckett. Everything she was, everything she stole from Joseph and others, it's in me now. She was _so strong_ ," he shivers in revulsion and Beckett does the same.

"So, now _I'm_ strong, Beckett, far stronger than anyone as inexperienced could expect to be. I can feel it, but I'm afraid to use it. I don't know how to control it. When I've been forced to try, some things seem to take all my energy and some almost none, and I don't know what to expect," he laments.

 _This has got to be killing him. His strength built on the foundation created by the deaths of others?_

"You used it well today," she counters, trying to get him to focus on the positive.

 _Come on, Castle. You saved us today – crow about it!_

Instead, Castle huffs out a disgusted laugh. "Hardly. I blew it today. Again. I was trying to form a shield around us, something that would keep us there but out of reach and safe from the tiger. Instead, we floated up through the floor, and I sure as hell wasn't out of her reach," he says with a nod to his leg.

"But it worked," Beckett retorts, refusing to let him focus on the negative. "We're here because of you."

"Luck," Castle replies miserably.

"So what else can you do?" Beckett asks cheerily, figuring that this might make Castle engage.

"A good Gamma," he says after a few moments, "can do incredible things. I saw Joseph levitate, become incorporeal, change his appearance and voice. He perfectly mirrored Jonas once – that was pretty scary," Castle says with a small laugh.

"Yes, I can imagine," Beckett replies with a staged shudder. "I can do without hearing Jonas in mono, much less stereo. But you're distracting me – what else can you do? You can heal, obviously, and you apparently floated us through a solid floor."

"I can do the automatic stuff," Castle answers, "like healing. And I, um, don't need to breathe much underwater. _Don't_ call me Aquaman," he says when he sees Beckett about to interject. "But the other stuff is just what happens when I'm under pressure."

"How did you lose your other boats?" Beckett wades in, wondering if this is a touchy subject.

Blushing, Castle takes a moment to frame his explanation. "The first time I was trying to create light," he says with an embarrassed shrug. "It was late at night with no moon, so I thought it would be cool if I could provide my own light."

"You know," Beckett interjects, "I just had a lovely image of you recreating that _Calvin & Hobbes_ cartoon, where Calvin is frustrated because he doesn't know which muscles to flex to make his butt light up like a firefly's," she says with a laugh.

"Thank god I didn't try that," Castle says with a smile while giving his flank a slap. _Mission accomplished_. "No, I tried to create a ball of light."

"And…," Becket prompts.

"It was a ball of light all right," he answers, looking chagrined. "It was a globe-sized fireball that shot right through the bow. The parts of the boat that weren't blown to smithereens went up in flames within seconds."

"What was her name?" Beckett asks, wondering if they're really aboard _Writer Buoy III_.

"That was the _Book 'em, Dano_ ," Castle explains to Beckett's groan. "Hey, don't blame me – Jonas picked the first two names."

"A likely story," Beckett days while sounding doubtful. "So, what killed boat number two?"

"The _Quips Ahoy_?" Castles asks with a gleam in his eye, waiting for another groan. "She was killed by a Rubik's Cube."

"What?" Beckett laughs. "Did you light that on fire, too?"

"No, no, no," Castle chuckles in response. "My mistakes are many and varied. Before he was killed, Joseph recommended some exercises, like trying to solve the cube without using my hands. That part went okay. But then I tried to take it apart."

"You didn't," Beckett says with a hand in front of her mouth, anticipating the end of this story.

"I did," Castle confirms with an embarrassed smile. "I held it in my palm like this," he says while holding his right hand palm-up in front of him, "and concentrated on taking it apart. It worked – the cube disassembled, but so did everything in my field of vision behind it. Including the hull."

"I guess it's a good thing you're comfortable in the water," Beckett says with a laugh.

"I'm okay with it," Castle says with a shrug. "Jonas – not so much."

 _That's alright. Seems like Jonas could do with a good soaking. Repeatedly._

"You know," Castle says, pivoting, "only _once_ have I been able to do what I planned."

"In the hangar, with Montgomery?" Beckett guesses.

"No," Castle replies sadly. "I didn't know what I was, then. If only I had." After a brief pause in which he casts Beckett an endearing look, he says. "The bank."

"The New Amsterdam?" Beckett asks. "But you were stuck inside – I thought you'd died!"

 _Dammit, I'm tearing up. Just when I thought I'd gotten past that stupid disaster._

"I should've died – we all should've," Castle replies. "We were in a steel and marble chamber. You saw the force of the explosion – the concussive shockwave should've turned our brains to tapioca," Castle says, creating another visual that will haunt Beckett. "Didn't you hear the bomb techs talking about what a miracle it was we survived?"

 _They_ were _perplexed by the lack of injuries or fatalities among the hostages, but we were all too happy with the resolution to care about how it happened._

"Did you try your shield trick there?" Beckett asks, anxious to get to happier news.

"Not really," Castle replies. "I just imagined that the vault door was closed."

 _Maybe it's a good thing we're talking about this. God bless second chances._

"Actually, Castle, there's one thing about the bank job that still haunts me," Beckett confesses, reclaiming Castle's hand.

"What's that?" Castle asks, confused.

"Your mother's interference," she says as she leans in to reclaim their interrupted kiss. Her movement stalls, though, when Castle pulls away.

* * *

A/N2: There are a number of other books, movies, or stories that have or might've influenced Running Water. Some elements are obvious, others probably pull from ideas that I've read or heard over several decades, some of which are top of mind again after sharing them with my kids. The more likely influences include Neil Gaiman, JRR Tolkien, Brandon Sanderson, Robert Jordan, Alan Moore, George RR Martin, JK Rowling, John Fitzgerald, Christopher Fowler, and Tim Powers, among others. I also devoured comics as a kid (DC or Marvel, no rivalry for me). Relevant movies include Star Wars and Highlander, probably others, some of which I liked and others of which had interesting ideas.

A/N3: I wrote the first several chapters out to make sure I could do something with this idea for a story. Future updates aren't likely to arrive as quickly as this one did, I'm afraid.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Many, many thanks for the comments and PMs about this story. I know it's an odd one, but I'm having some fun. And October's a great month for something a little off the wall. If you can, stick around for chapter five – that one looks like it might capture some of the comedy I was hoping for in this story.

.

" _Actually, Castle, there's one thing about the bank job that still haunts me," Beckett confesses, reclaiming Castle's hand._

" _What's that?" Castle asks, confused._

" _Your mother's interference," she says as she leans in to reclaim their interrupted kiss. Her movement stalls, though, when Castle pulls away._

* * *

 **Castle**

 _I can't believe I just did that._

"Castle?" Beckett asks, trying to not sound hurt. "What's going on? I thought you wanted this."

"I do," Castle confirms heartily. "I have for a while. But not like this. Not before you know everything and have the chance to walk away on dry land."

"Why would I walk away?" Beckett asks in confusion.

 _Time to fess up._

"You made it perfectly clear what would happen if I poked into your mother's case," Castle begins to explain when Beckett cuts him off.

"And you've been working the case since you came back," Beckett says confidently. "I'm a detective, Castle. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

 _I don't know, Detective, there are plenty of other things about me that you don't notice._

"Alexis ratted me out, didn't she?" Castle asks.

"The point is, I know about it and we'll work it out," Beckett replies without answering his question. "I'm getting over my anger and starting to understand a little better why you did it," Beckett says in the face of Castle's dubious look. "Why should that stop us?"

"That's not actually what I was going to confess," Castle replies, fully capturing Beckett's attention. "If you're concerned about your mother's case, you're going to be much angrier about what I've done."

"Enough stalling, Castle. What did you do?" she asks in exasperation. "Is this what made you say I'd kill you if we escaped the tiger?"

"Yes," Castle confesses. "I did something when you were lying in the grass in the cemetery, Kate. I don't know what I did and Joseph couldn't figure it out, had never heard of anything like it before. Whatever I did, it helped keep you alive and helped you heal."

"At your expense," Beckett interjects. "You're the one who should be angry, not me."

 _Hold that thought, Detective._

Shaking his head, Castle continues. "Whatever I did then, it's getting stronger even though you don't need it anymore."

"What does that mean?" Beckett asks, sounding a little nervous.

Castle scrubs his cheek with his hand while framing a response when the boat's speed noticeable slows. _We're nearly back. Perfect timing_ , he thinks morosely.

"It means… it means that at any time or place I can point to you and know how far away you are. It means that I can tell when you work out, because I can see your scar," he says as the taps his chest. "It means that I can feel a twinge of pain when you hurt yourself, the strongest of your emotions, including the well of panic that sometimes threatens to rise up and crest over you," he confesses to Beckett's wide eyes. "It means," he says softly, "that I know more about you than you'd ever want me to know. And I don't know how to turn it off."

As if to accentuate his final words, Jonas cuts the engine as the _Writer Buoy_ drifts into its berth at Slip 47. Even before Jonas descends to tie them to the pier, Beckett's on the move, vaulting from the boat to the planks.

When she disappears into the shadows beyond the reach of the waterfront lamps, Castle feels the thump of Jonas' hand on his shoulder.

"You owe me twenty bucks," he says gruffly. "Told you she'd run."

 _Yes, you did. You think you've got her number, but she might still prove you wrong. She ran, but we'll see if she comes back._

"You'll have to put it on my tab," Castle answers with a sigh. "My wallet was either eaten by a tiger or stolen by bad guys. One more thing to deal with tomorrow. Or later today, I guess," he finishes with a sad sigh.

"Come on, boss, let's put up the table and I'll grab a bottle. We'll drink 'er away again," Jonas offers, unaffected by mention of tigers or criminals.

"No thanks, Jonas," Castle says, slightly cheered. "I need a hug from my little girl and I'm afraid you're not much of a substitute on that front."

"Prob'ly not," Jonas says kindly, reaching into his pocket and peeling off a few bills from a crumpled wad. "Here's cab fare. I know you're planning to walk," Jonas says with a suppressive hand gesture, "but this way you can change your mind, or you'll have something for the muggers."

"You're a good friend, Jonas," Castles says quietly. "I'll give you a call tomorrow – something tells me I'll have more time on my hands for practice. Depending on the school schedule, maybe we should start thinking about heading for Maine or Florida."

"You want to try the open water, boss? You ready for that?" Jonas asks, looking both nervous and excited.

"Doubtful. But there's not much left to lose, buddy," Castle sighs, "not much time to figure things out before someone finds me."

On that depressing note, Castle claps Jonas on the shoulder before turning and heading out into the night.

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _He should be here by now. Maybe he decided to bunk with Jonas tonight? No, he'd want to be with Alexis. He probably stopped to get hammered on the way home. That's not likely to make this talk any easier._

Beckett's just starting to lose her battle against falling asleep in her cruiser when movement in the rear-view mirror catches her eye. Ambling into view beneath the sodium streetlights, an exhausted looking Castle turns to enter his lobby when Beckett calls out to catch his attention.

"Castle, did you walk all this way?" she asks, surprised and embarrassed. _Of course he walked. He doesn't have his wallet and you left him at the pier._

"Didn't get much exercise today. Yesterday. Whenever," Castle says from the front of his building. His hand still on the door handle, he's frozen in place, stopped by her words but not holding the door open for her. "Did you need something, Detective?"

 _Oh, he's pissed. I ran away, just as he predicted. And after he told me, again, that he loves me._

"Yes. I need to apologize," Beckett says directly. "I shouldn't have run off like that, left you at the pier. And I shouldn't have left you hanging after you told me you love me."

"Look, Beckett…," Castle starts.

"Again," Beckett interjects.

 _Now he knows that I lied. Now he can hate me for all the right reasons, or we can figure out a way to get past this._

Exhaustion probably slowing him down, it takes Castle a moment to figure out what Beckett's "again" referenced. She can see from the widening of his eyes when he makes the connection. Before he can respond, she quickly asks "Can we talk? Maybe upstairs?"

A terse nod after a few moments of silence precedes his opening the door to the lobby.

 _Always the gentleman, even when furious_ , Beckett thinks as he holds the door open for her.

The elevator ride is silent, as is their entry to the loft. Castle kicks off his shoes in what Beckett recognizes as uncharacteristic disregard. She learned from her temporary residence that Castle's a bit of a neat freak, so his entry is more evidence that he's not his usual self.

"Water?" he asks as he heads to the kitchen. Collecting two glasses following her nod, he's walking past her moments later, motioning to his study. Once inside, Castle retreats behind his desk, his decision to place an obstacle between them obvious to them both. Beckett perches on an armchair and decides to seize the initiative while Castle's still gulping his drink.

"I'm sorry I lied, Castle, you deserved better," Beckett starts.

"Damn straight I did," Castle agrees readily, throwing Beckett off with his fierce reply. "Nice of you to finally own up to it, though."

 _What?_

"You knew about it?" she whispers.

"Were you not listening, Beckett? We're connected," Castle says, bumping his fists together to illustrate. "I've known you well enough to recognize your lies for a long time. And now I can feel your powerful emotions. I'm not sure how I knew when you told me you didn't remember anything, but it doesn't matter. I knew you were lying."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asks, before answering her own question.

 _Because you were struggling to live, because you were with Josh, and because you were ignoring his declaration of love. Any of those was enough reason to drop it; all three together guaranteed that he wouldn't push. And if he had any doubts, they were erased by the following three months of radio silence._

"Sorry, you don't need to answer that," Beckett backtracks. Trying to think of a way to engage and apologize, Beckett starts with the basics. "I'm sorry I ran tonight. I'm having trouble accepting what you told me, but I shouldn't have stranded you."

"Why do you think I've been working so hard to undo this connection?" Castle asks with a tone that's growing less aggressive. "I know how much you value your privacy, your self-sufficiency."

 _He's not telling me everything – his face is placid but his eyes are guarded. There's something else going on._

"You're right, Castle," Beckett says softly. "I do value my privacy and the thought of you being able to read my moods is disturbing. But there's something else going on, something else that pushed you. Tell me?"

"I don't know what's going on, Kate," Castle says as he props both elbows on the desk and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. "You lied about hearing me, but then you tried to kiss me tonight. So, maybe there's still hope for us. _Is_ there hope for us?"

"Yes," Beckett says softly. "I thought I said that on the swings, but maybe I wasn't very clear. Just to make sure we're on the same page, I was talking about you. And if you're still concerned, let tonight's near-kiss speak for me," Beckett says to Castle's small smile.

"But you're still not leveling with me – if you can feel my emotions, you know that I didn't lie because I felt differently. In fact," she says with a blush, "you probably know that I feel pretty strongly about you."

"Sometimes," Castle replies with a huff. "It's not like reading a book, and it doesn't happen all the time. It spikes with powerful emotions, and let's be clear: I cause spikes of irritation and exasperation as often as affection or tenderness."

 _Well, that's fair. But, come on, how could I be exasperated if I didn't love you?_

Castle blushes, causing Beckett to immediately realize her mistake. They're sitting here talking about him feeling her emotions, and then she goes and thinks about her love for him. _How mortifying_ , she thinks as she lowers her head to hide behind her tresses.

"There were two things that terrified me when I realized our connection was growing stronger," Castle says in a gentle voice. "The first was that you'd have Josh or someone new and I'd have to feel your emotions for another man, someone for whom my own emotion would be only the deepest, blackest envy."

 _That sounds like a torture from some science fiction novel – consigning someone to constantly suffer through watching a rival claim their heart's desire. And what if she'd done what he feared and started up with someone new in order to hide from him? His love would have to curdle to hatred, if only to let him survive._

"My second fear," Castle continues, pulling her away from her ruminations, "was that I'd cheat, that feeling your emotions would lead to us starting something that wasn't genuine. Something built on insider information and subconscious manipulation rather than real emotion."

"I trust you, Castle," Beckett says quietly but resolutely. "You know, when you forced your way into the precinct, I didn't trust you with anything because I expected you to leave. I didn't think you had the attention span to be a reliable partner or friend. I couldn't have been more wrong. You've become my constant, the person in my life in whom I can, and should, confide."

"Nah, you were right," Castle disagrees with a smile. "I was a flighty jerk back then. But then I had a reason to become something more. This Gamma thing is hardly the first awakening I've had since I've known you."

 _This insight into my emotions might have a few small benefits. If it actually helps us have more conversations like this one, we might not need a tiger or exploding bank to help push our relationship along_.

"Hey, Kate?" Castle asks shyly. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Funny, I was going to ask one of you, too," she replies. When Castle insists that she go first, she makes her request. "I have to face Gates tomorrow at 8:00 to explain how we ended up in the tiger's lair. Today at 8:00, I guess," she clarifies, sighing as she looks at her father's watch. "I know she isn't your biggest fan, but will you please come with me? It might be best if you cleared out afterward, but I'd like to have you with me."

The late hour and the transition from personal to work responsibilities signal an end to their physically and mentally exhausting day, Castle stands and holds a hand out to Beckett to lead her to the door. "Of course I'll be there. I've faced a tiger with you, so a bear should be no problem."

"No cuffs this time," Beckett says with a smile.

"Damn," Castle replies quickly, pulling a small laugh from Beckett.

As they pause in front of the loft's door, Beckett turns to Castle. "You mentioned a favor?"

Looking a little sheepish, Castle nods. "I did a remarkable thing this evening. I'm still trying to figure out it if was stupid or not, but I'd have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested that I'd dodge a kiss from you. Would you mind if we tried that again?"

"It wasn't stupid, it was noble," Beckett corrects. "Let me show you how I feel about it," she whispers just before her lips find his.

* * *

 **Castle**

"You seem pretty chipper this morning," Alexis calls from the stairs as she watches Castle bustle about the kitchen.

"I got a lot written yesterday," Castle brags with a smile, "so I'm going in to the precinct today."

"Right," Alexis says in a flat voice, "it's your writing that has you chirping, not the prospect of seeing Detective Beckett."

 _Yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing Beckett. Yesterday started with a world-class reaming by Gates, but ended with a lovely dinner. If I play my cards right, there might be dinner tonight, too…_

"Dad!" Alexis calls out, apparently not for the first time. Unless she can teleport, he must've blanked out there for a minute, thoughts lingering on the time spent on Beckett's couch last night.

"Oh my god," Alexis says after watching her father come back from his mental tangent. "She finally decided to put you out of her misery, didn't she?"

"Yes. No. We're talking about seeing more of each other," Castle fumbles, not quite ready to talk about the delicate state of his relationship with Beckett and surprised that Alexis called him on it so quickly.

 _Better get yourself under control, Castle. Alexis figured this out in seconds, and you're about to spend the day with trained detectives._

"Just talking?" Alexis asks primly.

She doesn't do this often, but Alexis has taken things one step too far, and Castle's silence speaks volumes. "You don't seem pleased by this prospect," he says eventually, in lieu of an answer.

"It's not up to me," Alexis answers. "It's your heart, you can risk it as you like."

"I know it's a risk," Castle answers quietly, his earnest answer catching Alexis off guard. "And I'm trying to be careful, we both are. This can go wrong in a lot of ways. But it's something I've wanted for a long time."

"I know, Dad," Alexis sighs. "I just wish it wasn't her."

"Not everything that happened this summer was related to her," Castle says, catching Alexis by surprise. "But, some of it was. Things are changing between us now. Will you give her a chance? We've both made some mistakes and we're trying to move forward."

"I'm not sure I'm as forgiving as you are," Alexis answers honestly. "I'll try, Dad, for you. But I'm not sure I'll be able to trust her again."

"Just keep an open mind," Castle says softly while wrapping his daughter in a quick hug. "That's all I ask."

"I'll try," Alexis promises with a kiss to his cheek. It's less than he hoped for but more than he feared, so he lets the topic drop.

"Actually, Pumpkin, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about," Castle says as he slides a plated omelet to her. As she looks at him inquisitively, Castle continues so that she can tuck into her breakfast. "I've been meeting with a doctor," he says, then backs off at her look of alarm. "It's nothing serious, just a genetic issue that we're discussing."

 _Sorry, Alexis, I wish I could be more direct about this, but I don't know enough to share, yet._

"Are you okay?" Alexis asks meekly, cheering when he walks around the kitchen island to give her a sideways hug and kiss.

"I'm fine, and will be for a long while," he assures her gently.

"Is this why you've been eating so much?" Alexis asks with a perched brow as he makes his way back around the kitchen island to tend to his own omelet, reminding Castle that his daughter can be inconveniently observant. _Family trait?_

"Nah, I've been burning a lot of calories," Castle says while puffing out his chest and patting his stomach, succeeding in pulling an indulgent look from his daughter. "I've just been talking to him about potential precautions I should take, things I should learn about," Castle says, hating himself a little for the deception.

"If it's genetic, does that mean that I should see a doctor, too?" Alexis asks, trying to act nonchalant but obviously concerned.

Rubbing her back gently, Castle tries to be reassuring. "I don't think we have anything to worry about," he says gently. "It's just a gift from the unknown side of our family tree. The only reason I'm mentioning this is so that you're not surprised if my doctor ever reaches out to you. His name is Jonas. He can be a bit gruff and he might not look the part, but he's a friend."

 _I'm sorry, Pumpkin, but you need to have some reason to trust Jonas if he needs to find you, and I'm not sure my letter will be enough._

"But you're really okay?" Alexis asks, unwilling to let this go.

"Alexis, the only thing I'm looking forward to as much as walking you down the aisle is schooling your kids in laser tag and mischievous pranks. Trust me, I'm not willing to leave before then," he says with a laugh. Unable to sit on the stool, Alexis stands and wraps him in a fierce, protective hug.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Shit! I thought you said that she wasn't coming in today!" Esposito hisses at Ryan as he tries to cover up the magazine he was perusing as Gates exits the elevator.

Trying to surreptitiously increase their level of activity to avoid Gates' wrath, the detectives square their shoulders at their desks and look attentively at their computer screens. Beckett's distracted, though, by Castle's tapping on her desk, which she studiously ignores.

"Detectives," Gates says in greeting, her voice flat. "Keeping busy, I hope?"

 _Is she sick? The captain doesn't sound well._

As Gates presses the boys, Beckett rubs her forehead. She must have a headache coming on – it sounds like Gates is speaking with reverberation, like there's a second voice just out of hearing that murmurs along at the same time. Castle's continued tapping on the desk isn't helping, so she finally turns to glare at his hand to provide a more direct hint.

As soon as she's looking at it, Castle's hand stops tapping and starts drawing. It takes a few repetitions for her to make out what he's doing. It's a simple movement. It looks like a ribbon, like the pink symbols she's seen for breast cancer awareness.

 _Oh, shit. He's inverted it for my perspective. It's not a ribbon. It's a lower-case gamma._

Watching one more time to confirm her theory, Beckett watches Castle draw the gamma symbol again. To avoid drawing "the captain's" attention, Beckett conspicuously reaches for her stapler with her right hand while slyly covering Castle's hand with her left.

As soon as she touches his hand, the world seems to blink. The woman standing in the bullpen isn't their middle aged African-American boss; she's younger, taller, and Italian, or maybe Greek. Obviously, everyone who looks at her is seeing Gates. If Esposito could see the actual person, his tongue would be hanging out of his mouth. When she realizes that this new view remains without touching Castle, Beckett slowly withdraws her hand from his.

"It took me a while to track you down," faux-Gates says to Castle in a low purr as she approaches. "That was quite an impressive display of power the other day," she says as she rakes her eyes over him. Now that Beckett can see this woman for who she really is, the strange vocal distortion is gone, leaving only her true voice. "Don't worry, you can talk freely. The menials won't hear what we're actually saying."

"What's your name?" Castle asks. He's adopted his playboy-author persona, but it doesn't fool Beckett – she can see his nerves and knows that he's scared about having another Gamma here in the precinct. She also knows him well enough to know that he's thinking about doing something stupid.

"You can call me Calypso," the visitor says with a sultry smile. _Taking the name of a Greek nymph? Please._

Quickly realizing that she's exposed, Beckett strains herself to hear the fake voice that others in the bullpen must be hearing – without knowing what the illusion is saying or looking like, it's altogether too easy to give herself away. With focus, she can just make out the false conversation, in which "Gates" is taking Castle to task for the distraction his writing causes the precinct.

"Sir, I don't think you're being fair," Beckett objects, building her cover.

Paying attention to two parallel conversations while only reacting to one is starting to give Beckett a ferocious headache, but it seems to be working. Adopting a humble pose as "Gates" berates her, Beckett hangs her head to listen to the hidden conversation.

"It's cute that you spend your time here," Calypso says. "Community service?" she asks with a probably-artificially enhanced twinkle in her eye.

"A side project," Castle replies with a shrug, "It gives me access to their resources. But we don't need to stay. How would you feel about lunch at Le Cirque?"

 _Goddammit, Castle, don't you dare. I know you're trying to get her out of here to minimize any collateral damage, but don't you dare jump on this grenade._

"Your… companion won't mind?" Calypso asks while looking askance at Beckett.

"I think I'm almost done here," Castle says while eyeing Tory Ellis as she exits a conference room en route to the stairs. _He's trying to divert attention from me,_ Beckett realizes as she watches him eye another woman, _but it still hurts._

"Don't do this," Beckett interjects, kicking herself for her loss of control. _You're a detective, for goodness sakes, don't blow your cover!_ "Don't punish Castle – we need him as part of the team," she says to cover her gaffe, relating her outburst to the conversation others are hearing, in which "Gates" continues to berate Castle. But despite her act, she shoots an intense look at Castle to deter him from this route.

"It seems you'll be missed. Shall we?" Calypso asks as she waits for Castle to rise. In her head, Beckett instead hears "Gates" kick Castle out and growl that she's escorting him out of the building. The rest of the room sees an infuriated Captain escort Castle into the elevator. Only Beckett, in her private torture, sees Calypso take possessive hold of Castle's arm while she exaggerates the sway of her hips on their walk to the elevator.

 _It's like watching him walk away with Gina all over again._ Watching the doors close breaks her heart, even as she sees Castle mouth a silent "Always" to her.

"Holy crap," Esposito shudders while Ryan releases a loud exhalation, "I haven't heard a reaming like that since Basic. I don't think we're going to see Castle again."

* * *

A/N2: I've designed this story with early and extended stopping points and haven't yet decided if I'll take the first or second option. My consternation with the start of season eight is messing with me, so I'm going to reserve judgment and hope that I won't find the show's plotlines so frustrating by the time I get to the first potential ending.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: I'm hoping to get on a more regular updating cycle, starting with chapter five on Sunday. So, this little transition chapter goes up to clear the way.

.

* * *

 **Beckett**

As she drives into the parking area for Pier 32, Beckett tries to get herself under control. She's still on edge after a long day of waiting for and worrying about Castle. Trying to be as generous as possible, she'll grudgingly admit that getting Calypso out of the precinct was a good idea – there's no knowing her motivations, what she might do, or whether her actions might hurt others. Beckett will also admit, even less willingly, that Castle's effort to downplay her importance was probably a wise decision to help keep her safe.

But, it doesn't really make her feel any better. After years of worrying that Castle wouldn't have the focus to maintain anything but a fling, it hurts to have him pretending to distance himself just as they're taking halting steps to be together. They haven't progressed much beyond kissing and cuddling so far, in recognition of her current reservations about the connection between them, but the timing might be worse for that – they were treading lightly on thin ice and this makes it feel like he suddenly started to jumping around.

And, on top of everything else, his text asked her to meet him at his "home base," which comes complete with an acerbic detractor who doesn't wait for an excuse to berate her. _It'll be so great to see Jonas again, especially after bailing out last time._

After parking and walking to slip 47, she tentatively calls out a greeting. When the cabin door opens, Castle bounds out, hops off the boat, and wraps Beckett in a fierce hug that lifts her into the air.

 _Maybe things won't be so bad after all._

"It's so good to see you," Castle sighs into her hair, not releasing his grip.

"I'm not the one who left," she chides in return, but gently. It feels too good here in his embrace to be antagonistic.

"Are you okay?" Beckett finally asks after a few minutes.

"No," Castle answers as he disengages from their embrace and takes her hand. "Are you up for a quick cruise? I'd feel more comfortable talking on the water."

"Sure," she replies, preparing for Jonas' arrival.

"Don't worry," Castle replies with a smile, either reading her face or feeling her anxiety. "I sent Jonas off to dinner with a full wallet and a friendly lady. I'm the captain tonight."

"Is that safe?" Beckett asks with a challenging look.

"For Jonas, the lady, or you?" He replies with a grin. "Yes, she can handle him, and probably not, respectively. But you can swim, right?"

"I'm not the one who'll be swimming," she replies with a mock-growl.

"Come on, Beckett," he challenges as he helps her step aboard before releasing her hand to cast off the lines securing the _Writer Buoy_. "I thought you liked the classics. And there's nothing more classic than the old ' _oh no, I ran out of gas_ ' line."

"That doesn't concern me, though I'd have hoped for something more original from my favorite author," she says with a smile that blooms wider as her unexpected praise causes him to stutter-step and nearly fall out of the boat. "I'm just looking to avoid any collisions or capsizings," she says.

Castle's just starting to take a deep breath and has a wicked look on his face when Beckett cuts him off. "And don't you dare say anything inappropriate about going down with the ship."

His look shifting from glee to a pout, Castle grumbles as he climbs the ladder to reach the captain's chair. "What's the point of having a boat if nautical innuendo isn't allowed?"

"Um, keeping you alive, maybe?" Beckett replies tartly as she climbs the ladder behind him.

"Right," Castle replies, slightly chastised.

The flying bridge on Castle's boat isn't large, so Beckett's crowded behind him as he guides the boat out onto the open water while standing behind the wheel. Shifting so she can see him better, Beckett's happy to see his profile as he takes them out. He's concentrating hard, careful to do this right. Castle must be relatively new at this – he's good, but not yet confident. Risking a potential distraction, Beckett rubs his back. His attention doesn't waver, but his posture noticeably relaxes, prompting Beckett to recall that she's not the only one who's had a stressful day.

Twenty minutes later, they're anchored and bobbing in place. Castle leads them down to the deck, then ducks into the cabin long enough to pull out a picnic basket. After settling a fluffy flannel blanket on the deck and giving her another to wrap around her shoulders, Castle settles into place and starts pulling out the dinner that he packed for them.

"Thanks for this, Castle. It might help me relax after today's stress," she says gently, already feeling calmer for their isolation on the water.

"Did you guys catch a case after I left?"" he asks, cluelessly.

 _You've got to be kidding me._

"I was worrying about you!" she says earnestly. "What happened after you left?"

Popping a bite of chicken into his mouth, Castle pauses before answering. "I was pretty scared," he confesses. "And you know the sad part? I was mostly worried about me. I thought that if she tried something, I'd react explosively and maybe hurt you or the boys or someone else. I'm sorry, Kate. I'm sure I made you angry when I left, but I had to get her out of there."

"I knew what you were doing," Beckett answers. "It was probably the right move, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach."

"I'm sorrier about ignoring you before I left," Castle continues, smart enough to know that his disaffected act wasn't a great way to start a relationship. "But I didn't want her to know how important you are to me. She already knows who I am, which means that she could go after Alexis if things go bad. I can't handle the thought of her going after you, too."

There are so many threads to follow after this statement that Beckett pauses for a moment before starting with his daughter.

"Castle, is Alexis... can she...," Beckett fumbles as her skepticism wars with her concern for Castle. Finally giving up, she just asks: "Is she a Gamma?"

"I don't know," Castle answers with some frustration. "Joseph said that our traits are inherited, but imperfectly. So, it might be that she doesn't have any latent abilities, or it might be that she hasn't yet been in a sufficiently stressful situation to free her to use them." After a brief pause, he continues, "Though it's hard to imagine how some of my more spectacular parenting gaffes wouldn't have pushed her over the edge."

Acknowledging his self-deprecation with only a playful nudge, Beckett catches his attention by focusing on a different topic. "You've said that a few times now, used 'freed' to describe having been stressed enough to realize your potential," she says, growing more comfortable in her discussion.

"That's what Joseph called it, and the way it's supposed to feel," Castle answers with a nod. "To me, it's felt more like a curse than anything else, but that's just because of my particular situation."

"Have you talked to Alexis about this?" Beckett asks hesitantly.

"No," Castle answers with a sigh and a hand run through his hair. "What can I tell her? _'Hey Pumpkin, you might have magical powers but you're screwed if so, because I can't tell you how to use them and people might try to kill you to get them. Sweet dreams!'_ No, I don't think that'd go over too well."

 _Oh, Castle. I've been focusing on the connection you created between us, but you've known about a looming threat to Alexis for months. How have you not collapsed?_

"Castle," Beckett says gently while reaching for his hand. "She needs to know."

* * *

 **Castle**

 _Get ready to run, Beckett. Things are getting serious again._

"I know," Castle sighs, looking at their hands. "I've done what I can to look after her, but I don't want to tell her until I can actually help her."

"What have you done?" Beckett asks, picking up on the guilty tone in his voice.

"A few things," Castle replies, building to his answer. When Beckett doesn't prompt him, he hares ahead anyway. "I'm keeping pretty meticulous notes about what I've learned, what's worked but mostly what's failed. I wrote down everything I could remember Joseph saying, even if it didn't make sense. Jonas has a copy," he says while reaching into his pocket, "but I'd like you to have one, too," he says while dropping a thumb drive into her free hand. "I'll update it as I can so that Alexis can know as much as I've figured out if I'm not around to help her."

Beckett doesn't speak, but lifts his hand and kisses it in sorrowful response.

"I've also set things up with my attorney so that if I die or disappear in an unusual way, Alexis has access to everything, including assets that I've hidden using every trick I've seen since I've been at the 12th," Castle says with a mirthless laugh. "If they get me, they'll know that she's a potential target, so she'll need to disappear. If that happens…," Castle says before pausing. "If that happens, I'd appreciate it if you could do whatever's in your power to help. What I've set aside is more than enough for both of you, and everything you need to access it or find her is on that drive."

 _No crying, Beckett. I'm barely holding on, here. The only thing keeping me going is the hope that you two will be safe if someone gets me_.

Rearing onto his knees, Castle lets go of Beckett's hand and leans over her to kiss away her silent tears. Her hands rise to cradle his face just as he's cradling hers, and they take the time to simply memorize each other, rocking gently in the river while enjoying the peace between them.

Releasing her face after a sweet, gentle kiss, Castle sits back down and motions to her food, trying to get them back on track.

"There's one other thing I've done," Castle says bracingly, trying to dispel the pall of his potential violent demise. "Remember how I told you about the time Meredith spirited Alexis away to Paris, and the time I lost her at the mall?"

"I do," Beckett says, voice scratchy after her prolonged silence. "I still remember how shaken you sounded."

Nodding, Castle continues. "I've donated anonymously to several charity groups since then, including the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children. This summer, I asked Paula to 'accidentally' out me at an opportune moment, which happened last month. When asked, she's shut down inquiries with a curt statement that I don't comment on matters involving my child."

"That's really clever," Beckett praises after thinking about this for a moment. "It'll get more attention because you're downplaying it, and anyone wondering about Alexis' potential might think that she's already had an event that would have 'freed' her and leave her alone when it's apparent that she's not displaying any unusual abilities."

"That's the hope," Castle agrees. "I road-tested the theory with the Gamma who was pretending to be Gates today and she seemed to buy it."

 _My detective's back – no more soft words for my daughter. She's back to today's Gamma and back on the offensive._

* * *

 **Beckett**

"So, tell me about _Calypso_ ," Beckett asks, unable to refrain from sneering at the name.

About to take another bite of his dinner, Castle drops his fork back into the salad bowl in his lap. "Wait a minute – how did you know her name? You could hear her?"

"And see her," Beckett confirms. "Something was off when 'Gates' arrived, some kind of reverb effect when she spoke. When I touched your hand to hide the gamma symbol you were drawing, it… pierced the veil, I guess," she says with an embarrassed shrug. "If I concentrated, I could hear what the Gates illusion was saying."

Castle pauses to consider the ramifications of this admission. "You're incredible," he says in a low voice. "You played that off so well. So, I guess you saw and heard what I did? I had no idea that was even possible," Castle trails off with some frustration.

"So, how was your fancy lunch with the beautiful Mediterranean sorceress?" Beckett asks.

 _I can't believe I just said those words in that sequence._

"Terrifying," Castle answers with a huff. "Kind of hard to appreciate a good filet when you're wondering if you're about to be skewered yourself."

 _That's fair. Maybe I need to dial down the jealousy a bit._

"You always said you wanted to go undercover," Beckett answers, trying to coax him into a lighter mood. From his laugh, it seems to work.

"Do you know she had no idea who I was until she showed up at the precinct?" he says with a look of mock offense. "She saw the flare from our tiger escape and poked around at the building the next day, learning enough to track it back to the 12th. She basically walked around until she found me. She didn't know I was an author until she got in the building and started asking questions."

"You poor boy," Beckett teases, "how did your ego ever survive?"

"It's actually a good thing with her and a bad thing in general. I take back all my praise about Bruce Wayne," Castle says in response. "Being recognizable kind of stinks for a Gamma. If I was a janitor and someone started sniffing around, I could disappear or just fade into anonymity. But being recognizable makes that pretty difficult."

"Tony Stark embraced it," Beckett parries.

"Yeah, but at the cost of his house," Castle grouses. "Plus – no daughter."

 _Damn it, nice move, Kate. Way to bring things back around to Alexis._

"But I did learn something important today," Castle forges on, not letting them fall back into their earlier discussion and winning a thankful smile from Beckett in return. "I never knew that I shine even when I'm not trying to do anything – that's how she found me in the precinct."

"So – what, you're using your abilities without knowing it?" Beckett hazards a guess, still not comfortable with this entire notion of magical powers, despite her gentle ribbing.

Castle nods, looking pensive. "I think it's the autonomic stuff – you know, like healing, muscle control. It doesn't take much, but it shows up, I guess."

"Muscle control?" Beckett follows up.

With a sigh, Castle unbuttons the cuff of his shirt and pushes his sleeve up as far as it'll go. "I knew you wouldn't let that go as soon as I said it," he says with a huff. Then, before she can ask him why this is a big deal, he points the heel of his hand at her, exposing the underside of his arm from wrist to bicep.

"Watch," he says. Beckett stifles a gasp as a wavy ripple moves from his wrist to his bicep and back. "I guess it's not truly muscle control. If I concentrate, I can feel individual muscle strands, veins, arteries. And sometimes I can control them."

 _Maybe that's where those abs came from._

Noticing her blush, Castle replies with a chuckle as he pulls his sleeve back down to his wrist and buttons it closed. "Yes," he says with a knowing, cheeky grin, "I can isolate and reflexively exercise individual muscles. I've been working on different muscle groups, sometimes while at the precinct. It's like body-wide Kegel exercises," he says with a leer that deepens the shade of her blush. "It's had a nice effect on my physique."

"I'll say," Beckett mumbles, pulling a rich laugh from Castle. "But, it's not worth your exposure," she says, thinking of how Calypso found him.

Castle's gleeful look prompts her to reconsider her word choice. "Not like that! Exposure of your status as a Gamma, not exposure of the indecent variety."

"I would've gone with 'incredible' rather than 'indecent,' but that's just me," Castle says, clearly trying to provoke a reaction and winning both an eye roll and pursed lips. "But, yes, probably not worth getting killed. So, I, ah," Castle stalls, rubbing the back of his neck. "I asked Calypso about it. How to hide it."

 _I recognize that look. It's the 'confess to the misdemeanor to avoid copping to the felony.'_

"So, she's giving you lessons, now?" Beckett guesses. "She's going to be your _private tutor_ , your _hot teacher_?"

"What else can I do?" Castle asks miserably. "Who else can teach me what I need to know, how to control my powers and undo our connection? Better a teacher with questionable motives than no teacher at all."

"I'm sorry, Castle," Beckett soothes, reaching out to rub the arm that he just used to demonstrate. "I underestimated you, assumed that you'd be distracted by her beauty."

"You know it doesn't matter, right?" Castle says, looking uncomfortable. "She might be beautiful," Castle says, then pauses until Beckett looks him in the eyes, "but she's not you."

 _You sweet, confounding man. There's so much going on, yet you're treading so carefully to protect our chance at happiness together._

Kneeling and leaning over to initiate her own sweet kiss, Beckett impulsively decides that there's no reason they have to be sitting apart to have this conversation. Lifting Castle's picnic plate from his lap and setting it to the side, she nudges his legs apart and shifts into position there, nestling herself in the V of his legs and leaning back into his chest.

* * *

 **Castle**

 _Unbelievable. Kate Beckett just cuddled into me!_

Rubbing her arms before wrapping her in a gentle hug, Castle shuffles himself backward so that his back rests against the side, supporting him and Beckett both.

"Did you learn anything from her?" Beckett asks, restarting the conversation.

"I did," Castle confirms. "I learned that she's trying to mislead me already."

His comment jolts Beckett, but his arms stifle her instinctive reaction to sit up. "What do you mean?" she asks.

"She taught me how to hide," Castle explains. "How to prevent other Gammas from seeing me use my abilities, like Joseph used to do. But the way she showed me had an intentional flaw." After an inquisitive noise from Beckett, Castle explains. "Think of… think of sunglasses," he says. "Cheap sunglasses aren't polarized – you can go outside and they work fine, at least until you have to deal with reflected light. But you need polarized sunglasses to block direct and reflected light. She taught me the cheap sunglass way."

"So she can still find you if she knows how to look?" Beckett anticipates.

"Exactly. I'm not sure how I figured it out, it just felt wrong," Castle says. "I was practicing a little bit before you got to the pier."

 _And look! Still have the third boat, so things could've gone worse._

"The boat's still here," Beckett says while knocking on the deck, "so you must've learned something." Castle just rolls his eyes even though Beckett can't see them. _At least we're still in sync._

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Your tone of surprise really sold it," Castle grouses, getting a nudge to the ribs in reply.

"So, any other big lessons today?" Beckett asks while snuggling back into place.

"That was the lesson, otherwise it was a get-to-know you session," Castle explains with an amused huff. "She asked about my background, when I was freed, where I feel most comfortable and at peace…"

"So she's trying to figure out your home base?" Beckett asks, anticipating his thoughts already.

"How can I tell a story if you keep figuring things out before I get to explain?" Castle pretends to complain, his smile showing pride rather than frustration. "She hasn't said anything about elements where we might be safe, so she's definitely withholding that from me." After a brief pause, Castle summarizes his afternoon. "I don't think Calypso is a very nice person."

Laughing sarcastically at his gentle pronouncement, Beckett follows up. "What tipped you off? Her reference to the rest of us as ' _menials'_ or her ridiculous name?"

"What about her name?" Castle asks, avoiding the potentially more offensive example.

"Seriously, Castle?" Beckett asks. "You're the writer. What do you think she meant by taking the name of a goddess who trapped Odysseus to make him her immortal husband? I'd say your teacher is on the prowl for a partner in crime."

 _There's just no fooling this woman. Meredith wouldn't even be able to spell Calypso, much less reference Homer to explain her mythological significance._

"Yeah," Castle replies with a heavy sigh, "that fits. I am so screwed," he laments. "I've got to keep her interested enough to keep teaching me, but without getting myself in over my head or letting her kill me. Of course, she might just be teaching me to fatten me up, make me a little stronger before she tries to finish me off."

"How can I help?" Beckett offers earnestly.

"I'm not sure," Castle says while running a hand through his hair. "Maybe when I learn a little control you can help me practice, but I'm not sure I'm anxious to practice around you until I'm more confident that I won't accidentally launch you into orbit or freeze you in place or something."

"I can be your cheerleader, Castle," Beckett husks. "Maybe, as an incentive, I'll even promise to dress the part sometime," she says as she turns her head to kiss his jaw, laughing at his dazed expression.

"That'll… that'll…," Castle gulps, then shakes his head. "That'll be good."

"So, what's the plan? Are you still coming into the precinct, or are you studying with your tutor?" Beckett asks to get them back on track.

"I'll meet her in the park for the next several days," Castle answers. "She's off somewhere after that, so I'll be come in to the precinct then. I think it'll be sporadic for a while. I'm probably not the only lamb she's prepping for slaughter."

"Hey, stop it," Beckett replies with a fierce tone while turning in place and moving to straddle Castle. "I've gotten used to having you around. And I'm looking forward to spending more time with you," she says while gently poking his chest for emphasis. "So, buckle down, watch yourself, and we'll figure out a way to get you through this."

"Thanks, partner," Castle says thickly.

"When do you need to have Jonas' house back to him?" Beckett asks, again knocking on the deck next to her.

"Pretty soon, I'm afraid," Castle answers with regret. "We should probably head back in about 15 minutes."

"I know we're going slow until we can resolve this connection issue, Rick, and I appreciate it," Beckett replies. "But how would you feel about huddling for warmth until we need to leave?" she asks with a sly smile.

"I love do-overs," he says as he leans in for a kiss.

* * *

A/N2: Next chapter will go up on Sunday. I'm still catching up on replying to reviews from chapter three, which I'll finish tonight. Thanks for the reviews, especially those of you to whom I vented my dismay with this season's arc.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: The plan is to go with weekend updates from here forward, with extra chapters when I can.

.

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _The boys are in a fine mood already, and a full day of paperwork is going to drive them right over the edge. I hope Castle has the good sense to tread lightly today. Still, it'll be good to see him back where he belongs. Phone calls just aren't enough._

The ding of the elevator catches her attention, but Beckett's not the first one to greet her partner.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Esposito asks as Castle steps off the elevator, two coffee cups in hand.

"Richard Castle," he says as if introducing himself for the first time. "I'm a writer. I prop up the closure stats for the Homicide division while pretending to shadow Detective Beckett to gather material for my books."

Recognizing his partner's growl, Ryan jumps in to explain. "After Gates tore you apart and kicked you out the last time you were here, we weren't sure you'd be allowed back in the building."

 _Ah, but that wasn't the real Gates._

"She'll never be my biggest fan, but I think she'll tolerate me," Castle replies as he delivers a coffee to Beckett, warming at her indulgent smile.

"Your funeral," Esposito tosses out before shifting gears. "It's just a paperwork day anyway," he says while Ryan feigns a giant yawn and stretch and completes his partner's comment, "So you'll probably get bored and head home before lunch."

"Can't go home," Castle says with a light shrug. "The electricians are in. Some weird power surge blew out the wiring in the building," he says while casting a look at Beckett out of the corner of his eye.

 _Well, at least he can't sink a condo. I thought he said his lessons were going well!_

"Nice of you to bring us coffee there, Castle," Esposito notes with a hostile tone, his lack of caffeine elevating his usual gruffness.

"Sorry boys, but Beckett gets this as hazard pay for putting up with me," Castle retorts. "If you'd prefer that I sit at your desk and annoy you during paperwork, we could talk about changing things up."

"No thanks, not worth it, don't need you flirting with me," Esposito says brusquely. "We'll make do with the swill from the machine in there."

"That machine is a work of engineering art. If you think it's swill, you're not using it right," Castle replies in mock offense. "Tell you what – since I'm such a nice guy, I'll make you both a cup. Fair?"

 _Castle, you sweet idiot. This is all a ploy to make you retrieve their drinks._

At their nods, Castle heads off to make their coffee while Esposito crows. "He's so easy. I totally knew he'd cave."

"You too lazy to get your own drink?" Beckett chides, shaking her head.

"As you well know," he says with a direct look at the coffee Castle brought her, "it tastes better if someone else makes…," Esposito starts to say before a loud explosion from the kitchen shatters the glass of the internal windows, leaving them in place but riven with cracks. Meanwhile, whatever exploded has knocked Castle back with enough propulsive force to send him sliding out of the kitchen on his back, not stopping until his head collides with the wall across from the doorway, leaving a dent in the drywall if not his skull.

"Castle!" Beckett says as she jumps up, followed by others in the bullpen. Crowding around him, the detectives are trying to assess the damage when Beckett leans over and taps his cheek.

 _Dammit Castle, if we survived everything only for you to be taken out by a kitchen appliance, I'll kill you again._

"Castle, are you okay? Say something," she says while leaning over him.

"Ow," Castle replies as his eyes blink open.

Rolling her eyes, Beckett provides clearer instructions. "Say something sensible."

"Then you'd know something was wrong," Castle says with a weak smile, prompting chuckles from those who'd gathered around. As Castle levers himself into a sitting position while holding a hand to his head, the group disperses, leaving only Beckett and the boys. Checking his hand, Castle looks happy to see that there's no blood, though he'll probably have a nice bump there soon.

 _Or not, I guess. Now that he can hide his efforts, I guess he can heal that right here. Wait a minute…_

"You were practicing, weren't you?" she asks quietly as she helps him stand, the boys having moved into the kitchen to find the source of the explosion.

"Maybe," Castle answers with a rueful grin. "Teacher's orders. I'm actually making a lot of progress – had a bit of a breakthrough yesterday. I think I'm starting to figure some things out."

"Clearly," Beckett says flatly while admiring the shattered windows. "Dare I ask what you did?" Beckett asks indulgently.

"I was racing the espresso machine, seeing if I could heat a sphere of water faster than the machine," Castle says sheepishly. "I won."

"Mission accomplished," Beckett teases. "You might want to slow down next time, Speed Racer."

"No harm, no foul," Castle answers glibly, before a shadow falls over his face.

This time, it's the real Captain Gates who tears him a new one, before promising to present him with the repair bills.

* * *

 **Castle**

 _Seriously, how can she bill me for that? She doesn't have any idea what happened. Sign one total release of liability and they think they can walk all over you._

"Still pouting?" Beckett teases without looking up from her paperwork.

"I'm pondering. Looks similar, but totally different," Castle pouts. Beckett laughs without even looking up.

 _This is sooooo boring. Seriously, how can I not try to practice? My lessons are starting to make sense, but I've got to lock it in before I forget it all again._

"Hey, Castle," Ryan calls out from his desk. "Maybe the curse is back," he says, pulling a wicked cackle from Esposito. "Seriously, we had nothing to do with it and no one from the Bomb Squad has been around. That was a legitimate curse-related phenomenon in there."

 _Perfect. Not even Beckett can blame me for this. Well, yeah, she can, but it's still totally worth it._

"I was hoping that you wouldn't notice, Kevin," Castle says seriously, "but I'm afraid you're right."

Beckett casts him a raised brow, already suspecting the mischief he has in mind.

"Why aren't you freaking out then, writer boy?" Esposito asks. "You're the curse-magnet around here."

"I'm afraid not, Espo," Castle continues, sounding almost sorrowful. "I'm the only one who performed the counter-curse. If it's back, I fear it's not me who'll be suffering. I still remember how to reverse the curse, if you're interested."

"As if," Esposito fires back. Beckett heaves a mighty sigh in anticipation of what looks sure to follow.

 _Oh, it's_ so _on, boys._

Twenty minutes later, Castle figures out how to initiate phase one of his plan. It takes Beckett a few minutes to notice it, but the flailing arms finally catch her attention. "Problem over there, boys?" she asks with cocked brow.

"Bugs," Esposito grunts, waving his arm in a shooing motion again while Ryan ducks his head. "I can hear 'em, and they keep landing on me, but I can't catch the damn things."

"I don't see anything," Beckett says seriously while pivoting in her seat, withdrawing her foot to gently step on Castle's toes.

"You know," Castle says conversationally, "they had problems with insects in ancient times. Plagues, locusts, the whole bit. That's a classic curse," he says with brows raised.

"Whatever," Esposito says while taking another swat. Ryan, alternatively, looks contemplative.

Turning back to their work, Castle decides to lessen the onslaught for about half an hour. _This is fantastic practice – I just needed a more playful incentive._ He lets the boys get settled for just long enough to think that the scourge has passed before he simulates another buzz, landing, or bite.

Finally breaking, Esposito slams his hands on his desk. "I need coffee. _Someone_ never made good on his delivery," he growls while standing up.

"Hey Javi, grab two, will ya?" Ryan calls out while fanning a manila folder to disrupt the flight paths of his invisible tormentors.

 _Excellent. Phase two._

Annoyed that he ended up as the delivery boy rather than Castle, Esposito returns a few minutes later and presents Ryan's coffee with sarcastic exuberance, acting like a pretentious barista. Walking around to his side of their adjoining desks, Esposito sets his coffee down before sitting back in his chair, which collapses into pieces beneath him, dumping him unceremoniously on his back.

"Javi?" Ryan says while standing up, focusing on his partner and missing the kick that Beckett lands on Castle's shin.

"What the hell?" Esposito growls as he sits up, surveying the pieces of his chair littered around him. "You're asking for it, Castle."

While Castle looks on innocently, it's Ryan who denies the allegation. "Uh, Javi? I was sitting here the whole time. No one moved. No one even walked by. Your chair just gave out on its own."

Glaring at his partner as if it was his fault, Esposito starts to re-assemble his chair, shooting Ryan a nasty look when he bends over to help. Worried about pushing Esposito too far, Ryan retreats back to his desk, sitting down in his chair for mere seconds before it, too, collapses.

His predicament cheers Esposito slightly, but Ryan's starting to look a little freaked out. Esposito's offer to show his partner how to reassemble the chair snaps him out of it and starts a race between the partners.

"Rubik's cube?" Beckett asks, remembering what Castle had been practicing when he lost his second boat.

"I might've figured out how to narrow the focus," he says with a grin.

"You'd better figure out how to do that shield thing you were talking about before they find out that you're behind this," Beckett murmurs to Castle.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Castle replies with admirable poise. "Are you suggesting that I can do _magic_?"

Their reverie is interrupted by the sharp clacking of Gates' heels as she walks down the corridor beside the bullpen, nose in a file. It's actually the sound of her steps faltering that catches their attention. Looking up, they see Gates shaking her head at Ryan and Esposito, who are kneeling in front of their desks, ignoring their chairs to avoid the possibility of another collapse.

"I don't even want to know," Gates mutters as she retreats to her office.

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _Ryan, I can believe. But Esposito, too?_

"… and then you run around the site of your curse three times, counter-clockwise," Castle says as he finishes the directions. With large sighs but no disagreement, the boys head toward the elevator to start their counter-curse routine before Ryan grabs Esposito's arm with a fearful look and diverts them to the stairwell instead.

"Funny," Beckett says as she watches them depart. "I don't recall the process being so involved," she says with a playfully raised brow.

"It's like a recipe, Beckett," Castle explains helpfully. "The boys just get the benefits of my inspired adjustments and alterations. I can _guarantee_ that their efforts will be effective."

"Really?" Beckett replies doubtfully. "They go through this and you won't mess with them again?"

"Well, I can hardly be held accountable if they do something wrong," Castle says airily. "This curse stuff is a tricky business."

Though it's time to head home, Beckett takes a few minutes to consider her paperwork. Not surprisingly, the increasing distractions over the course of the day divided her attention, even though she wasn't directly affected by the "curse." _Which is the most obvious evidence that Castle was behind the whole thing_.

The boys, on the other hand, probably accomplished nothing at all during a day that rapidly spiraled out of control for them. After the chair debacle, they lost the ability to write: every time Esposito picked up a pen, it would stop working as soon as he put it to paper. Trying to think outside the box, Ryan switched to pencils (sure to win Gates' wrath), which broke with every other written word. Castle's joke about them using crayons didn't go over very well.

Lunch was no better. In an effort that clearly taxed his new abilities and nearly blew the power grid for the precinct ( _Was this what happened at the loft?_ ), Castle somehow managed to cancel the elevator call button every time one of the boys pushed it. Ryan took this as an obvious sign to use the stairs, but Esposito viewed it as a challenge to his authority, investing a solid ten minutes in pushing a call button that kept going dim as soon as he withdrew his finger. Of course, the fact that it worked perfectly when Gates used it to leave for her own lunch break only strengthened his resolve, until he finally gave up, huffed out "I'm not hungry anyway," and slunk back to his desk, launching himself to the side after almost making the mistake of sitting in his chair. Castle must've felt a little bad, since he ordered them all take-out after that. _The spiciness of their meals must've been coincidence. There's no way Castle could've done that, right?_

But the worst, the absolute worst, was that both of her colleagues endured a day with no caffeine. About a half-hour after the chair collapsing session, Esposito again remembered that they'd still not had coffee. He and Ryan went to the break room, since by that point the partners were unwilling to do anything without someone present to provide cover. Walking back with mugs in hand, all appeared normal until Ryan frowned and looked into his mug. Somehow, between the break room and his desk, his coffee had gone stone cold. Esposito soon noticed the same thing. Grumbling, they went back for fresh cups. When their drinks were again cold within 20 yards, even Esposito started to look a little disconcerted. Anxious to capture evidence of this strange occurrence, Ryan found a thermometer and looked like a complete ass juggling his mug and his phone while recording the process of pouring his coffee and walking it to his desk. This time, his coffee froze completely, as he learned when he pulled out the thermometer and was left with coffee popsicle. They hadn't tried coffee after that, even when Castle offered to get them some. And Ryan flatly refused to consider opening a pressurized can of soda.

"What a great day," Castle sighs contentedly, breaking Beckett's recollection and reminding her that she was supposed to be finishing her own paperwork.

"I hope you got it out of your system," she replies while refocusing on her forms. "I can't have you completely distracting my team with regularity. You know, any more so than usual."

"You can't tell me they didn't deserve a little teasing," Castle whines playfully, doodling on a post-it note on the corner of her desk.

"Certain debts were repaid today," Beckett admits, "though I don't recall Superman ever exacting revenge on his co-workers."

"'Man of Steel,' Beckett," Castle laughs in response. "There's a reason they didn't call him 'Man of Imagination.' But," he continues as if knowing how far he's pushing his luck, "I'll settle down. It's just so much fun when I can control what I can do!"

"I know, Castle," Beckett replies earnestly. _Why do you think I let you play today? You needed to have some fun, to relax and play. You were never meant to be gloomy, Castle._

"Look," Castle says, trying to get them on track. "I know I was a distraction today, and you wouldn't be Kate Beckett, Detective extraordinaire, if you didn't make up for it. How about this," he proposes, drawing her attention. "I'd like to talk to you about how things went yesterday. Are you free for dinner?"

"You know I am," Beckett smiles coquettishly in reply, before remembering her surroundings and quickly looking around to make sure no one could overhear them. "I thought we'd already made that clear."

"I didn't want to presume," Castle shrugs, winning Beckett over again with this unexpectedly shy side to his personality. In response her gentle look, he continues. "I'm learning a lot but Cali got a little… clingy yesterday. I'm a little concerned that she'll figure out how important you are to me. How would you feel about getting yourself to the Haunt after you finish your forms? I'll go in the secret way and we can meet in my office. I'll have dinner delivered there – Brian'll take care of receiving it for us."

 _So it's "Cali," now, is it? I think I know one of our discussion topics for dinner._

"Thai?" she suggests in reply.

"Perfect. I'll see you in what – an hour?" Castle asks, then stands and heads to the elevator at her nod. She's getting sappy, wishing for at least a goodbye hug, which is obviously out of the question. She'll just have to make up for it once they get to the Haunt.

Looking up from her paperwork, she sees Castle step into the elevator (which seems to work fine for him despite Esposito's earlier problems). She knits her brows when she sees Castle holding the door open from the inside, concentrating intently on her. _What's he doing? He knows I can't leave yet._

She startles when she feels his lips kiss her cheek, a phantom farewell sent from across the room. Blushing, she watches him fondly as the doors close to send him on his way. Then, turning back to her paperwork, she laughs while thinking about how much more desperate Esposito and Ryan would've been to reverse a kissing curse.

* * *

 **Castle**

"Any problems getting down here?" Castle asks as Beckett joins him in his office at the Old Haunt. "Brian didn't slow you down by hitting on you?"

"No more than usual," Beckett replies with a saucy wink.

 _Note to self: hire uglier bartenders._

"No respect for the boss," Castle grumbles as he opens his arms for Beckett's approach, grunting slightly as she plows into him.

"Hey, handsome," Beckett purrs as she nuzzles into him. Castle's too shocked by this warm greeting to do much more than hum in response and bask in the warm glow of his partner's attentions.

"Wow, I'm going to offer clandestine dinner meetings more often if this is the reception I get," Castle chuckles to himself, feeling an admonishing squeeze from his partner's arms around his waist.

"That's right – food!" Beckett says happily as she pulls back and takes the time to survey the room. "Nice spread, Castle," she says appreciatively as she approaches the desk and claims her plate.

"Only the best," he replies with a wink, still bemused to watch his partner in such a good, relaxed mood.

 _It's almost like she missed me or something_.

"Let's talk while we eat," Beckett suggests while eyeing her chicken pad thai. "After today's shenanigans, I'm guessing you've made some progress with _Cali_."

 _Oops, probably shouldn't have mentioned her nickname. One of these days I'll remember not to start these conversations by swallowing my foot._

Settling into the sofa next to Beckett, Castle takes a bite of his dinner before describing his progress to his partner. "The last few days have been great on the learning front, yesterday especially. It reminded me of physics back in college."

"You took physics?" Beckett interrupts, surprised. "That's not exactly on-path for a lit major."

"It is if you're thinking about the possibility of writing science fiction or doing screenplays," Castle says with a shrug. "Had I realized that it was all just math in disguise I might've tried something else," he huffs. "I had this crazy instructor from India. He did the whole 'look at the person on your left, look at the person on your right, one of the three of you will still be here at the end.'"

"Ugh, I hated that lecture. It was usually so much crap," Beckett laments, recalling her own college days.

"His wasn't," Castle reminisces. "He was actually a pretty cool guy – he dropped us in the deep end and said that nothing would make sense for the first six weeks. But, if the lightbulb hadn't gone off by week eight, he told us to drop the course before it would hit our transcript."

"I take it you had your lightbulb moment?" Beckett asks, figuring he must've if he used this story as an example.

"Yep, but not until around week nine. As you say, it was a little out of my comfort zone, but I was too stubborn to leave. As a writer, my GPA didn't matter much," Castle laughs.

"So, you had your physics moment yesterday with _Cali_?" Beckett asks.

"I did," Castle confirms happily. "Things just started making sense, like when our theory clicks on a case. And the best part was that she didn't realize it. She doesn't know about Joseph, so she's trying to bring me along slowly. But with the combination of what she gave me and what I remember from Joseph, I figured some things out."

"I'm surprised," Beckett says, taking a moment to swallow another nibble, "that she can't tell what you're doing. You must be quite the actor."

"That side of things is going pretty well," Castle says cautiously. "It helps that she's not very subtle. She's had a few exercises where she's wanted me to push as hard as I can, which I think are thinly-veiled tests to gauge my strength. My months of reticence paid off – I'm used to holding back. So, she thinks I'm much weaker than I really am."

"But she must've taught you _something_ ," Beckett probes. "Unless, of course, the boys really are cursed," she says with a sly smile.

 _I need to figure out time travel next. Then I could record Beckett talking about magic and curses and blow her mind by playing the tape for her back in our first year._

"You can fill a water balloon with a firehose," Castle says by way of explanation, "but it takes less effort if you set it up right, since you actually only need a trickle of water. That's what finally made sense yesterday – how to do something with the right amount of energy, rather than throwing everything I have at it. It gives me a lot more control and makes it easier to hide my efforts."

"Like fine motor skills," Beckett suggests as an analogy. "I guess I can see how today's fun built off that lesson."

"I feel terrible about that," Castle replies with mock solemnity. "If not for teacher's orders, I would've sat quietly at the precinct today. But she said practice, so…"

"So what else could you do?" Beckett answers as if his advocate. "Aside from torment your colleagues, or nearly cause a blackout that would've shut down the precinct, or threaten to blow the plumbing system to pieces, or shatter all the windows in the lounge…," she says with a pointed look.

"I'm paying for the windows," Castle mumbles. "Though I was thinking that I might be able to fix them…"

"No," Beckett says decisively. "We'll take a window pane out on the water and try it if you want, but no more experimentation in the precinct."

"Spoilsport," Castle huffs out, nudging her shoulder.

After a few minutes of quiet during which they tuck into their dinners, Beckett broaches the topic that's increasingly weighing on her. "Castle?" she asks in a tone that captures his attention and causes him to drop his fork onto his plate and set it aside so that he can turn and give her his complete attention. "What's the end-game with Calypso?"

 _I wish I knew, Kate_.

"I was hoping you could help me figure that out," he admits. "I need to learn a lot more, but I also need to figure out an exit strategy. I don't want to tell her that I'm leaving to focus on another relationship, because I think she might lash out, either at me or the object of my affection," he says while looking at her fondly.

"And you don't want to take up with her?" Beckett asks in her detective voice, which fails to disguise her unease.

 _An insecure Beckett? Inconceivable._

"Of course not. I'm just starting out the last significant romantic relationship of my life. I don't want to change a thing," he says as he reaches out for Beckett's hand.

"She can give you things that I can't," Beckett says haltingly while looking down at their joined hands.

"There's only one thing I want, and it's only yours to give," Castle says gently.

 _I hope I don't lose this hand_.

Reaching out with his free hand, he places it over her heart, over her scar, careful to move slowly and avoid any inadvertent grazing. This is a gesture of love and healing, one he doesn't want confused as a sexual advance. Beckett's hopeful, teary-eyed look tells him that she understands.

After sitting frozen in that position for a few long moments, Castle leans forward for a sweet, chaste kiss. It's another way to show her that he wants it all, not just the passion but the love as well. "Dance with me?" he asks shyly as he stands, still holding her hand but not pulling until she nods her assent.

"Without music?" Beckett asks with a raised brow. The words have barely left her mouth before the audio system on the other side of the office comes to life, filling the room with the bassline of Diana Krall's "Temptation."

"That's going to take some getting used to," Beckett says as she looks at her partner. "I've been remarkably good, I think, about accepting all this Gamma stuff. But these little displays of what you can do still freak me out a little," she says with a shrug as she steps into Castle's arms.

"I probably shouldn't say this," Castle says in a tone that Beckett recognizes from some of his impish pranks. "But you should really be a little more skeptical," he says as he reaches into his pocket and shows her the remote control that he used to start the music.

"Ass," Beckett huffs as she swats his chest before immediately kissing the place she hit. Then, curling into him, she lets her body fall into the gentle, swaying rhythm of the music.

Three songs later they're still dancing in a close embrace when Beckett breaks the silence. "You don't have to do it, you know."

"What do you mean?" Castle asks, startled out of the happy daze he'd been enjoying with Beckett in his arms.

"I know why you're continuing your studies with Calypso," Beckett whispers. "You know enough to venture out on your own. But you're staying to see if she can teach you anything that will help you break our connection. You're staying for me."

 _Of course I am. That should be my motto – it's been true for years._

"It'll be fine," Castle soothes as they continue their dance. "I'll just aim to irritate her, annoy her enough to get me tossed out."

"Won't work," Beckett says as she shakes her head before pulling back to look into Castle's eyes. "You tried that with me and I fell in love with you."

Smiling radiantly, she watches the shocked delight register on Castle's face.

 _I… you…_ love _?_

"I… you… _love_?" Castle stammers.

"Yes, Rick," Beckett chuckles. "You, me, love," she says as she reaches up for a lingering kiss.

Several songs (and many kisses) later, Beckett maneuvers their dance carefully before surprising Castle with a gentle shove that knocks him into a sitting position on the sofa. Chuckling at his surprise, she curls up on her side next to him with her head on his lap, nearly purring when his hands find their way into her hair.

"Hey Castle?" Beckett asks with eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his hands in her hair. "I was serious before. I don't want you to spend time with Calypso just to figure out our connection."

Finally able to play with Beckett's hair, Castle doesn't pause while answering. "I can't ask her about it directly. She's too unpredictable and I worry that she'd settle for getting rid of you as the way to get rid of the connection. But she seems to know some things. She might have what we need to cut you loose."

"It's not worth the risk, Rick," Beckett says around a sigh. "Besides, I'm starting to wonder if we shouldn't leave the connection alone."

 _That_ statement causes Castle's hands to still. "Kate?"

"I think it's actually helping," Beckett says in a small voice. "I'm not good at opening up, but this makes it easier. It's almost like a safety net – I don't have to be so worried about misspeaking because you already know how I feel."

 _She can't be serious. She hates it when I predict what she wants for lunch, and now she's comfortable with me knowing her emotions?_

"Kate," Castle says gently, trying to figure out how to do this without giving offense. "You might like me knowing some of your emotions some of the time, but I can't control it. And for all I know our connection will keep getting stronger. Are you really comfortable we me having that kind of access to your feelings?"

Using her hand to rub Castle's knee, Beckett's motion prompts Castle to begin stroking her hair again. With that situation is resolved to her satisfaction, Beckett turns to lie on her back so that she can look straight up at Castle. "No, I can't say that I'm entirely comfortable with it," she confesses. "But tell me this: how many times have you been truly surprised by what I've been feeling?"

"When you've felt affection for me," Castle answers promptly, making Beckett wince with guilt. "That surprised me, the depth of it. I've always hoped, but the first time I felt that wave of affection and knew it was because of me, I…" he trails off, looking away.

"Rick Castle, did a girl make you _cry_?" Beckett teases gently as she lifts a hand to rub his cheek.

"Don't be ridiculous, Beckett," Castle says with a smile. "Crying isn't manly. I wept," he says with a watery chuckle. "Tears of joy. Which was kind of awkward, since I was at a book signing at the time. So, yeah, thanks for that," he says as he barks a laugh.

Smiling beatifically, Beckett presses her point. "Any other surprises?"

"Not that I can remember," Castle admits, "I was kind of caught up by the affection thing, though, so I might not've noticed."

"I'm not sure we need to be connected for you to know what I'm feeling," Beckett says with her hand still on Castle's cheek. "I think you've known for a while, and you'd know even if you couldn't feel my emotions. In fact…" she trails off, waiting for his prompt.

"Yes?" Castle gamely bites.

"I have my own crazy theory. You're a bad influence," she says with a smirk. "I've been wondering – what if our connection isn't really a Gamma thing? We were in sync long before you were freed. Maybe it's our emotional connection that's getting stronger, not something magical."

 _I take it back. Beckett could record this conversation and play it back to me in our first year and I'd keel over._

"You might be onto something," Castle says after turning this theory over in his mind. "It'd probably have to do with both, though. From what you've told me, your parents loved each other deeply, but it doesn't sound like they could feel the other's emotions or pain. But that might explain why our bond is getting stronger. At least," he hedges, "from my side."

Rolling her eyes and straddling his lap to reinforce her message from eye level, Beckett grabs a fist-full of Castle's shirt and tugs him nose-to-nose. "From my side, too," she affirms with a fierce kiss.

After losing themselves for several long, glorious minutes, Beckett puts both palms on Castle's chest to help push herself away from temptation. Moving to sit sideways in his lap instead, she speaks into his neck while one of his hands draws lazy whorls on her back.

"I've got two days off coming up," she says conversationally, though her voice is creaky from disuse when she starts. "I was thinking that maybe we could spend them together, if you could set something up for Alexis and get away from your teacher."

"I'd love that," Castle agrees heartily. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"I think that if I mentioned what I have in mind, we might have a difficult time getting off of this sofa," Beckett admits with a blush, which deepens when she realizes that Castle can probably feel exactly what she's thinking about. "The other thing I have in mind is what you said on the boat last time."

"'I love do-overs?'" Castle recalls after a moment's recollection.

"Exactly," Beckett confirms. "I want a do-over for two summers ago."

 _She can't mean… Really?_

"Kate, would you come with me to the Hamptons?" he asks, unaccountably shy.

"I've waited for _years_ , Castle, to get this right," Beckett says with a watery laugh. "So, before reality intrudes, before Calypso makes a claim on you, before you sink another boat or anything else happens, yes. Yes, I would _love_ to run off to the Hamptons with you."

Castle tightens his hold on her, enjoying the moment until she finally, reluctantly disengages.

"I think I'd better go," Beckett says ruefully. "I think I know what'll happen if I stay, and as much as I'm looking forward to that, I want to start us off right. No interruptions, no hiding, just a few days of enjoying each other."

"I'm too distracted by imagining the possibilities to argue with you," Castle rasps out. Beckett's not sure if he's joking until his faraway look clears long enough for her to see his playful wink.

"Will I see you in the morning?" she asks him as they slowly walk to the office's door, drawing out their time together.

"I've got another day in the park with my teacher," Castle answers sadly, "and I'm not sure I should cut class yet. But, I'll start looking for a way to get out. More paperwork for you guys tomorrow?"

"Doubt it," Beckett replies, turning at the door to face Castle. "Unless there's a new case, we'll probably help Karpowski's team serve some warrants."

"Please be careful," Castle says earnestly, letting his look fully convey the depths of his interest in her welfare.

"Kiss for luck?" she asks, postponing her departure.

* * *

.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below. Buckle up.

.

* * *

 **Esposito**

Esposito is the first to struggle back to consciousness, though his bindings and the black bag over his head increases his confusion. He's been in similar situations before, both in training and in the field, so he's smart enough to keep his breathing pattern unchanged and remain still while he tries to figure out what happened.

 _We were covering the back of the complex where Karpowski's team was serving a warrant. A truck tore out of there while they were still preparing their approach, so they sent us to follow. Kev must've gotten too close, or maybe there was another vehicle that called us in. We rounded a turn, then there was a crash, then… guns, threats, the head bag, and a crack on the head that turned everything off._

"They're coming around. Let's see who we got," says an unseen voice.

The sudden brightness of the overhead lights makes his eyes water, but Esposito takes in as much as possible as soon as the bag's removed from his head. As a greasy bandana forces his mouth open and the gag is knotted behind his head, he assesses his situation. Small room, looks industrial, two egress points, both with closed doors. Three targets, two holding semi-automatics tending to the prisoners and one leader overseeing the operation. The leader's a swarthy-looking short man with a white blazer over a black shirt, with an exposed chest that's not hairy enough, surprisingly, to hide the gaudy gold chains that encircle his skinny neck and accentuate his weak chin.

"This one's not waking up," the blonde flunky says, kicking Ryan in the ribs to ensure that he's not faking it.

"But this one's awake and looking _good_ ," his bald compatriot replies, eyeing Beckett like a piece of meat.

 _Beckett always looks good, dumbass, even with that blood smear down the side of her face. But you try anything and she'll rip your nuts off. And then I'll ram them down your throat._

"Hey baby," the leader says as he circles Beckett, who struggles into a kneeling position, the closest she can come to standing with her ankles bound together and wrists zip-cuffed behind her back. "Look!" he says to his companions. "She can't wait to get started." Her gag might muffle Beckett's reply, but there's no mistaking her fury.

 _Forget you, pal. You think you're touching Beckett or stopping me from helping my partner, I'll tear your throat out with my teeth._

"We need to figure out how they found us," the leader says to the other two, as if trying to distract them from Beckett. "Tony's not gonna be happy if we don't have answers."

"Nah, Tony'll be more interested in what they know about the operation," baldy contradicts, "he won't give a shit about the old location."

Looking like he'd rather have baldy eyeing Beckett than challenging his directions, the leader tries to address both situations with one order. "Boys, start working him over in the back room," he says with a jerk of the head at Esposito. "Sweet-cheeks and I need some privacy for our interrogation," the leader says as he walks behind Beckett, reaching around her to run his fingers through her hair before she jerks her head to the side.

"Fuck you, Willy, you ain't the boss," blondie replies, letting his eyes wander over Beckett. "I ain't waitin' for no leftovers."

"Yeah," baldy chimes in, "'specially after you do that thing with your necklace."

"This isn't a damned democracy and I didn't ask for your vote," the leader snarls in a low, dangerous tone. "Take him in back and do what it takes to find out what they know. You break him fast enough, there might be something left for you. Too slow and you can play with Irish there."

Whatever authority the leader has, it's not enough to cow the two helpers, who square off to argue their point. As the tension mounts and grips on weapons start to get twitchy, Beckett's muffled laughter diverts the attention of all three.

 _Beckett, what the hell are you doing? They were about to throw down – with any luck, they'd take each other out, or at least reduce the odds against us_.

"The hell you laughin' at?" blondie asks, incensed that she seems to be belittling them from her position of submission. Her eye roll at being asked a question while gagged only seems to make him even angrier. Reaching forward, he roughly tugs the gag from Beckett's mouth, snatching his hand back in caution.

"What's so funny?" the leader asks in a silky voice that he probably intends to sound menacing but instead just sounds weak.

"You are. You had one chance to escape and you threw it away," Beckett says challengingly before turning her head and spitting out the blood that was collecting in her mouth.

 _Kate, goddammit, what are you thinking?_

"Aw, she doesn't like to swallow," baldy says crudely, though the leader's nose is scrunched in distaste.

"I won't be swallowing anything," Beckett says, adopting a chilly tone and posture. "And you idiots won't be able to with your jaws wired shut."

Blondie, making his issue with authoritative women even more apparent, is starting to fire up when the leader raises a hand. "And how's that gonna work? All I see is three tied up cops, one who's dying a little faster than the others."

"My partner's on his way," Beckett says with a lupine smile. "You should've run, but it's too late now."

 _They must have really bashed her head. Castle's going to save us? We're screwed._

Esposito's not the only one who's unimpressed by Beckett's threat. "Lady, ain't nobody found this place. No one followed us, no one can get in. We got three more guys downstairs. Even if your partner was here, there's no way he's going to be able to interrupt our time together," the leader says with a leer. The other two tense at this, preparing to stake their own claims, when the leader raises an empty hand to stall them.

"Business first," he says while withdrawing a cell phone with the other hand, apparently checking in with the men below.

As more time passes without an answer, the leader starts to furrow his brow. Disconnecting his call and dialing another number, his expression curdles to a scowl when that call also goes unanswered.

"Go check downstairs," he says to baldy, pointing to the door with his phone.

"Yeah, no," baldy says flatly. "Go get jumped or stay here with the chick? I'm staying. I'll take my chances waiting for Tony."

"We'll all go," the leader says in exasperation. "We'll tend to her when we get back. But we don't need spares."

 _Knew they'd get there eventually_ , Esposito thinks resignedly as he straightens and prepares to throw himself forward. _I won't go down easy._

But their captors are still turning toward him when the door to Esposito's right is blown into the room. With a thud, it connects with blondie, who crumples to the floor.

Esposito's starting to close his eyes in anticipation of a flash-bang grenade, the standard procedure for a breach in this situation, when he sees Castle charge into the room. Alone.

 _Christ, Castle, no backup? Where's the cavalry?_

Only as Castle moves past him does Esposito realize, with slow-motion-during-a-collision clarity, that he's never seen the writer this furious. Laughing, smirking, sulking, sure. But an enraged Castle?

 _Of course, if he knew they were threatening Beckett…_

Castle displays his tactical ignorance immediately, making for the unarmed leader rather than the thug. Just as Castle's fist smashes into the leader's jaw and proves Beckett's words prophetic, baldy raises his weapon.

"Freeze, police," baldy says with a grim chuckle, enjoying the reversal of having someone he thinks is an officer at gunpoint.

But even as baldy's speaking the gun comes apart in his hands, components tumbling to the floor. Where a trained merc might have reached for a sidearm or backed off to clear some room to maneuver, baldy is still confused by the scattered pieces of weaponry. Only too late does he prepare to fend off Castle, whose first strike drives the air from his lungs. The second hit, another shot to the jaw delivered from above the doubled-over over baldy, puts him down for the count.

Castle spins in place, wild-eyed and panting, searching for any other threats.

"Clear," Beckett says loudly, capturing Castle's attention. "We're clear Castle. That's all of them here."

"You okay?" he asks quickly, falling to his knees before her and gently tucking some bloodied hair behind her ear.

"You know I am. We're definitely leaving that connection alone," Beckett says with a lopsided grin, her words having an immediately calming effect on Castle.

 _What the hell is going on?_

* * *

 **Beckett**

"But you're okay?" Castle says as he stands and steps behind her to remove Beckett's bonds. "I was so scared. I got here as fast as I could."

 _Owe you another one, partner._

As her hands and ankles are freed, Beckett springs to her feet and gives Castle a quick, fierce hug right in front of Esposito, who still looks confused at their sudden reversal of fortune. "I knew you were coming. I could feel it," she whispers to him before stepping away.

"Distract Espo," Castle murmurs quietly while turning to tend to Ryan.

"What's going on?" Esposito asks as soon as his gag's removed. Beckett notices that he's itching to get to his partner, so she tries to divert him as she looks around to find something to cut the zip-cuffs.

 _Castle freed me without a knife. Espo might be distracted now, but he'll remember that later._

As soon as he's freed, Esposito steps around Beckett to kneel beside Ryan. Castle's already there, having removed the hood and bindings. Castle's hands are on Ryan's head and his eyes are closed, though he's mumbling something to himself.

Esposito's just reaching out toward Ryan's head when Castle's eyes snap open. "Espo, I need you to help us. They're all down but unsecured. Backup's five or ten minutes behind me, but we need to get this contained so the EMTs can get to Ryan. I'll stay here with him, but you've got to keep him safe."

 _Smart move, Castle. Make this about protecting his partner's safety_.

"Come on, Espo, I need you to cover me," Beckett says in a voice that's a strange mix of commanding and cajoling. With a hand to his shoulder, Beckett finally captures his attention. "Find something to bind them?" she asks, nodding toward a desk in the corner.

As Esposito moves to find something, Beckett moves to murmur to Castle.

"How is he?" she asks cautiously while looking at Ryan.

"It's bad," Castle replies grimly, causing Beckett to take a knee beside him.

"Can you do anything?" she asks hesitantly.

"We'll find out," Castle murmurs determinedly to Beckett. "Get Espo out of here. Take my phone," he says nodding toward the left pocket of his blazer. "Find yours. There's a tracking app on mine – put it on yours and sync them. I told Gates that we could track each other's phones. I'm sorry," he says earnestly, "but I couldn't think of another way to explain how I knew where you were headed."

 _Unbelievable. He's more worried about my reaction to his presumption than he was about busting in to rescue us._

Plucking his phone from his pocket, she rubs his shoulder as she stands, putting on her game face to address Esposito, who's returned with a roll of duct tape. "Let's take care of these three quickly, I want to get downstairs and be ready when backup arrives. I'll deal with Gates, you guide the EMTs."

Fifteen minutes later, their captors are being led away by others from the precinct or carried away by medical professionals. Esposito looks on as the gurney carrying Ryan is maneuvered down the stairs, the grinning passenger flashing him a thumbs-up as they approach.

"Light concussion," Ryan says as they gurney rolls up next to them. "And bruised ribs," an EMT adds from his position behind the gurney. While Esposito starts berating his partner for being such a lightweight and missing all the action, Beckett looks up to see Castle walking slowly down the stairs. The ordinary observer might miss it, but he's exhausted, walking slowly and carefully, using the handrail to avoid tumbling down the stairs. She's about to go to him when a voice from behind commands her attention.

"Detectives, you're all getting on a bus," Gates says with authority, expecting a fight. Not waiting for their arguments, she forges ahead. "You were all struck on the head and bound. You need a medical evaluation for our case reports and insurance requirements. I expect you to cooperate, including any recommendations or orders from the doctors at the hospital." Pausing to make eye contact with each of them, she offers one last, strong incentive. "I will view any decision to leave AMA as a choice to leave your job as well as the hospital. Understood?"

Beckett wants to argue and turns to look at her boss, but stops at the unexpected sight that Gates fails to hide quickly enough. _She's scared_. _She was worried about us and these gruff directives are the result. Tough love, maybe, or overcompensation._ Whatever the motivation, Beckett decides that she'll honor Gates' orders without argument.

"Just let me tell Castle," Beckett says with a tilt of her head in his direction, to which Gates adds her own nod.

"You look rough," they say to each other as Beckett meets Castle at the bottom of the stairs, causing a chuff of laughter from Castle and a pain-inducing eye roll from Beckett.

"Ha!" Castle crows lightly, having seen her flinch. "No eye rolling for you. Doctor's orders."

 _It's always about playing doctor with you, isn't it?_

"Your comments are practically prescriptions for eye rolls," she parries back. "And headaches. And cringes. And…"

"Okay, okay," Castle replies, raising a supplicating hand that doesn't keep Beckett from noticing that his other hand is still on the rail of the stairs, propping him up.

"Are you alright?" she asks, her tone so abruptly earnest in comparison with her teasing that Castle doesn't try to deflect.

"I'll be fine," he answers quietly. "Just need a quick swim. Ryan'll be okay, too."

His comment causes them to both turn to find Ryan. The EMTs are hoisting him into the ambulance, which might also be Beckett's ride. They also see Gates turn and start to move toward them, as if worrying that Beckett forgot or was trying to escape.

"I've got to go in and get checked out. Will you come get me later?" she asks, but then interrupts before he can agree. " _After_ your swim."

He's nodding in response when Gates arrives. "Time to go, Detective," she says curtly to Beckett. Before Beckett steps away, though, Gates speaks again. "I'd like to see you at the precinct at 8:00 tomorrow morning, Mr. Castle. I'd like to hear what happened here after you've given your statement," she says while turning to watch the gurney holding blondie get lifted into another ambulance, giving Beckett time to slip Castle's phone back in his pocket. "If Detective Beckett is admitted and needs a ride in the morning, you can meet her afterwards."

 _Admitted?! They'd better not even try. Besides, I owe it to Castle to be part of tomorrow's meeting._

Some combination of exhaustion, post-adrenaline fatigue, concern for Beckett, and anxiety about his upcoming meeting with the Captain makes Castle compliant. He shocks both women by answering "Yes, sir," with no irreverent tone or glib wisecracks.

The three make their way to Ryan's ambulance, where they join Esposito. After a few waves, the doors close and Ryan is whisked away. Another EMT beckons to the detectives, and Esposito and Beckett climb aboard a different ambulance.

Beckett's hopes for another phantom kiss are in vain, though she doesn't fault her partner. He looks like he can barely stand, a fact not missed by Gates. He succeeds in avoiding his own ambulance ride only with a promise to visit his physician and get some rest. Then, with another set of waves, the doors close and the ambulance departs.

The EMT hovers around them conducting basic checks, leaving the heavy assessments for the hospital staff. After a few minutes, Esposito looks up and captures Beckett's eyes.

 _He knows._

"Something's going on," he says quietly to Beckett's poker face. "The door, the gun, the fights… maybe there's an explanation for that. But Ryan was dying. I've seen a light concussion and that wasn't it."

He pauses and watches Beckett, who offers no reaction, no confirmation or denial. Leaning close so that he won't be overheard, Esposito whispers to her.

"Just tell me what I need to say in our reports. He saved us, saved my _partner_. So, just tell me what I need to say."

* * *

 **Castle**

 _Good thing I know a bit about fictional stories._

Exiting the interview room after giving his statement to Swanson, Castle's surprised by someone calling out his name.

"Castle, you got a minute?" Karpowski asks as she walks towards him looking nervous.

"Sure," Castle says amiably, a little surprised. "Coffee?"

He'd expected a joke about coffee being his job or moonlighting on Beckett by offering coffee to someone else, but Karpowski is quiet as they enter the breakroom. She stays quiet, looking contemplative, until Castle hands her a mug.

"I wanted to thank you," Karpowski says earnestly.

"It's just coffee," he replies with a smile, hoping for at least a quirk of her lips.

"That's not what I was talking about," Karpowski says while looking upset. "Thank you for saving them."

"It's what people here do, right? Look out for each other," Castle replies. "That's my team."

"You know," Karpowski says with an odd tone in her voice, "there are a lot of people who would rip you for that, get pissed off that you'd consider yourself a member of the team. They're wrong. They're lucky to have you. And I'm lucky that you were there to save them from my mistake."

"You didn't make a mistake, Roz," Castle denies strongly. "You know how this works – there is no way you or anyone else could've known what was going on. You went in with a warrant and a full team, exactly as you should've. That's what I said to Swanson and that's what I'll tell Gates."

"Thank you," Karpowski whispers again as she raises to her toes to dust a quick kiss on his cheek, but this time Castle thinks she's thanking him for his absolution rather than his intervention yesterday.

"Careful, you'll wreak havoc with the pools," Castle cajoles, finally succeeding in pulling a laugh out of Karpowski.

"You mean I'm not the prohibitive favorite for the last detective Castle kissed?" she says while exaggeratedly batting her eyes at him.

"Sorry, Roz, but you've got nothing on Espo," Castle parries with an eyebrow waggle.

"I'll be sure to tell him. Now get outta here – I just saw Swanson coming out of Gates' office, so she's got your statement," Karpowski warns gruffly. _There – back to normal._ "Better not keep her waiting."

With a sigh, Castle dumps the rest of his coffee and gives the mug a quick wash before putting it on the drying rack and heading off to see the Captain. She waves him in without looking up after his knock on the doorframe, asking him to shut the door behind him.

After lowering himself into a chair, Castle looks up to see Gates giving him an assessing stare from the other side of her desk, having just finished reviewing his statement. If she means to be intimidating, it doesn't work. _I've got to pick up a severely pissed off Beckett from the hospital after this, and that doesn't even get into what I learned last night. Your best shot, Captain, won't even hit the rim._

"Shall we start with how you managed to disable six men, how you were able to track my detectives, your blatant disregard for proper protocols, or your failure to wait for trained backup?" Gates says, starting their interview with a bang.

 _Funny, she doesn't sound nearly as angry as she should for that list of sins._

"Why don't we talk about what you really want to know?" Castle counters. "All of that's covered in my statement. I can repeat it if you like, but I don't think that's what's bothering you."

That gets an immediate reaction, Gates suddenly adopting the look of an irate nun straight out of Ryan's worst Catholic school nightmares. "And what, exactly, do you think is bothering me, Mr. Castle?" she asks icily.

"Guilt, mostly. Some shame, maybe, but definitely guilt," Castle asks while cocking his head to the side as if scanning Gates for any other emotional maladies.

"You've got one chance to explain before I throw you out of my precinct for good, regardless of who your friends are," Gates threatens.

 _Still not scary. I've seen worse looks from Beckett when teasing her about her horrible taste in television shows._

"You're glad I went in when I did, yesterday," Castle answers. "You've read the early statements, you know what they were talking about doing to Espo and Beckett. The ten minutes between when I went in and when you arrived was critical for them."

"I expected better than a Machiavellian rationalization from you, Mr. Castle," Gates chides.

"Not everything is a story," Castle answers with a shrug.

"And so I feel guilty because you went in before backup arrived?" Gates asks, challenging Castle's supposition.

"Yes, you do. You feel guilty because you thought _'at least it was only Mr. Castle,'_ " he guesses. Emboldened by her nearly disguised flinch, he continues. "If I'd died yesterday, the precinct would've been insulated by the waiver I signed. If I'd died, I might've bought time for you to arrive and save the team," he says, holding Gates' attention with his own direct look. "And in the big picture, if you have to choose between saving one pain-in-the-ass, loose cannon of a civilian and your best squad of detectives, there's really no choice, is there?"

 _Sorry, am I supposed to be joking and irreverent? I don't have the energy to stick to the script._

Gates doesn't answer, instead leveling an assessing stare at Castle. He's still too emotionally exhausted from yesterday and daunted by what he needs to attend to in the near future to worry much about Gates.

"If it's any consolation," he says quietly, "I agree. Each of them is better, more important than me. And all of them together? Forget it."

"I suspect your family would see things differently," Gates replies. _Is she just determined to fight me on everything? I was trying to agree with her!_

"I'd be a pretty horrible person if that weren't true," Castle agrees with a nod. "But sometimes we need to make choices."

"Regardless of your waiver, the NYPD would still suffer greatly if you were injured in the course of your… consultations," Gates says, seeming to have inserted the last word in lieu of something else. _Probably something unflattering._ "I'd consider kicking you out until you passed the physical and firearms exams, except that brings us back to the first question," she says with an inquisitive look. "How _were_ you able to infiltrate their location and subdue the suspects?"

"Luck, fear, adrenaline, and panic," Castle replies while ticking these off on his fingers. "And maybe karma, if these guys are as bad as they look."

"Is your humor and charm always effective at deflecting serious inquiries?" Gates asks, fully aware that Castle's not being forthcoming.

 _I keep forgetting that Gates was Beckett v1.0._

"With the uninitiated, the boys, the press, and ex-wives," Castle replies. "Beckett doesn't buy it. If you're going to suspend me or kick me out, please do it before I have to pick her up. Might save me one interrogation, at least."

Again, Gates gives Castle an appraising stare, lingering in whatever considerations are tumbling through her mind. Finally, she gives a short nod and re-engages in the conversation.

"I'm not going to suspend you or kick you out," she says, adding a chilly "Yet" when she sees Castle's disposition lighten. "But I'm not sure what I should do with you."

"Why do you need to do anything?" Castle asks honestly, confused by Gates' apparent dilemma. "Would you really want me to have acted differently yesterday? Because I've gotta tell you, as many times as I've replayed things in my mind, I haven't yet come up with something else I should've done."

"And that's the problem," Gates says with a sigh, uncharacteristically showing some of her inner turmoil. "I don't see how yesterday could've ended better, given where it started and how long it took us to arrive," she confesses. "But it still means that a civilian was put in harm's way and that the NYPD couldn't address a criminal threat without assistance."

"I hope you're thinking about it as a Deputy Chief would, and not how you view it in your own mind," Castle replies. _That's it Castle, push your luck_.

"And how should I look at it?" Gates says severely, annoyed at Castle's presumption.

"If I were you," Castle replies, causing both of them to shudder, "I'd be thinking _'it's about damned time that jackass was finally good for something_.' Besides," he adds quickly, noting that Gates' patience seems to be wearing even thinner, "the NYPD _was_ responsible for salvaging yesterday's situation. Karpowski set this up by the book. I might've come in at the end, but anything I did right is a direct result of spending more than three years studying NYPD's best. I mean, I _must've_ learned something along the way, right?"

"Perhaps," Gates grudgingly relents, considering this take and whether she can sell it to her superiors if pressed. "Of course, that doesn't work if your agent starts issuing press releases about what happened."

 _Yeah, because this was so much more newsworthy than defusing a nuclear bomb or tangling with a serial killer._

"Trust me, Captain," Castle says earnestly, "I don't want anyone to know what happened yesterday. I can assure you that just like anything else I might've been involved in during my time here, it won't hit the press."

"Except in the sanitized, fictional account of a make-believe detective," Gates harrumphs.

"Naturally," Castle replies amiably. "We all have to pay the bills somehow."

That prompts another huff from Gates, who picks up the transcript of Castle's statement and idly flips through it, clearly buying time to think about her options. Finally, looking slightly perturbed that Castle waited patiently and denied her the opportunity to chastise him, she sighs, puts the statement down, and looks at Castle.

"In lieu of a better alternative, I'll follow your recommendation, at least for now," she says firmly, almost daring Castle to make a comment. Saving his energy for later battles, Castle merely nods. When Gates says nothing further, Castle stands and makes his way to the door. When his hand reaches the doorknob, Gates speaks again.

"Mr. Castle," she calls to recall his attention. When he turns, Gates says "Thank you," in the most gentle voice he can ever recall her using. Then, of course, she looks down and returns to her paperwork.

"Sir?" Castle ventures, emboldened.

"You're still paying for the windows," she replies without looking up.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

A/N2: Sorry about the tonal shift from the last chapter, I know the Esposito section about was a bit rough. They call them bad guys for a reason. Apologies if the abrupt shift caused distress.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _If Castle doesn't show up soon, they'll have to take me from here straight to Holding. I'm going to throttle the next doctor or nurse who stops by 'just to check in.' I must be the most popular patient in this asylum._

"Excuse me, is this where I can find Dr. Davidson's ex?" Castle asks dangerously from the doorway.

"Is _that_ what's going on? It's been a damned parade all morning," Beckett grouses, jumping up from the bed already fully dressed, packed, and anxious to get out of here.

"The word is you're pretty but very mean," Castle replies with a raised brow to Beckett's low growl. "Don't worry, I set them straight," he says with a roguish grin. "I told them they had 'very' modifying the wrong adjective."

"Gee, thanks, Castle," she grumbles. "The benefits of dating a writer are truly overwhelming," she complains as she whacks him on the shoulder before stepping into a hug.

"Easy with the swatting, partner. It might mistakenly reinforce your reputation," he chuckles.

 _I'll let that one go because hitting you again would require stepping out of this hug. I'm sure I'll have other opportunities and provocations._

"We need to get Espo, then we're supposed to head to the precinct to give statements and do paperwork," Beckett sighs, unhappy with paperwork but thrilled to be out of the hospital. "But, at least this means there's no risk of a case interrupting our trip to the Hamptons tomorrow."

"You sure you're up for a trip away, Detective?" Castle asks.

"Just how strenuous do you think you can be, Castle?" she asks with a coy look.

"Oh, I think our trip will be exceptionally strenuous," Castle replies in a tone Beckett can't place. "Do you have some sick days stored up? We might need 'em for recovery."

"Promises, promises," Beckett teases in reply. "Besides, you can just heal me."

"I think Marvin Gaye has a song about that," Castle says with a wink, earning another swat.

With a sigh, Castle adjusts the plans for the day. "I'll drop you guys off, but I already gave my statement and had my chat with Gates. I've got to meet Cali, try to cover up what happened yesterday," Castle says as Beckett feels him tense.

"What do you mean, 'what happened yesterday'? You didn't say anything last night!" Beckett sounds aggrieved.

"We had other concerns last night," Castle soothes with a hand rubbing her back. "I tore out of my lesson with Cali with no explanation, having received no phone call. I'm going to have to explain what happened without raising any suspicions."

"You need to be alright," Beckett says softly while squeezing him tight. "You don't have my permission to get hurt. Just remember, if she's the teacher, I'm the principal."

"Nah," Castle replies good-naturedly. "She's a pinch of dirt, a drop of water. You, Beckett, are my sun."

 _Infuriating wordsmith,_ Beckett thinks as she reaches up for a searing kiss.

A clearing throat catches their attention, bringing their privacy to an end as they step apart. A nurse who looks far too interested in them hands Beckett an envelope of discharge papers then leaves directly, either anxious to avoid any parting shots from Beckett or to share her gossip with others. _Probably both_.

"Let's go get Espo," Beckett says as she bumps shoulders with Castle to get them moving.

"I still can't believe that Ryan got to go home last night," Castle says with a chuckle.

"Tell me about it," Beckett grumbles.

"Apparently there are advantages to not living alone," Castle says with an inquisitive look at Beckett.

 _Oh, boy, I'm not touching that one. Let's see how our trip to the Hamptons goes before we start worrying about big transitions. Besides, wonder-boy here can know what I'm feeling from the other side of the city._

"About Ryan," she says to get them back on topic, stopping in place in the hallway and looking around. "Espo knows something's up with you. He doesn't know what and I didn't tell him anything, but he's on the scent. He knows you helped Ryan and I bet he's been thinking about other aspects of yesterday's encounter, like how you found us, how you got in, how you made it past the guards…"

"How the lackey's gun fell apart like a cursed office chair?" Castle interrupts with a smile.

"Probably not yet, but he'll get there," Beckett says with her own note of humor. Sobering, she looks at Castle. "How do you want to play this?"

"Come on," Castle says, restarting them. "I'll tell him a little, but not much. We'll find someplace here, I don't want to talk in the car."

Esposito's as anxious to depart as Beckett was but he hasn't annoyed the hospital staff nearly as much, so his discharge takes slightly longer. Walking toward the exit, Castle suggests coffee and takes them on a detour to the Starbuck's stand in the cafeteria.

Settling into a table rather than leaving with their coffee tells Esposito that something's up.

"About yesterday," Castle says, instantly catching Esposito's attention. "You were right. I can only tell you two things about what you noticed, but they're both critical. First, you absolutely can _NOT_ expect that to happen with any reliability or consistency. Sometimes I can't do anything, and even when I can do something it's often the wrong thing. The day you rely on what happened yesterday is the day you die in the field."

 _We need to talk about this. Castle's smart enough to say this even if it isn't true, just to make sure Espo stays sharp in the field. But I need to know if he's exaggerating or not._

Esposito, meanwhile, is staring at Castle. After he nods, Castle resumes talking. "Second, you can't say _anything_ about this. Any time I do something it invites… retribution," Castle says awkwardly. "And not just for me, but for my family, too. If anyone learns about this, we're all at risk. Especially my daughter."

Again, Esposito stares at Castle for several long moments before nodding. "You saved his life, didn't you?"

There's no question about who he means and no reason for Castle to dissemble. "Yes. We were lucky."

Esposito nods again. "Then I'll do whatever you want. You saved my partner. My lips are sealed," he says without a smile or a smirk, making a vow.

After that, they head to the car and depart for the precinct. It's a quiet, tense ride. Castle's trying to figure out how to handle his afternoon with Cali. Beckett's wrestling with her concerns for Castle and the statement she needs to give as soon as they arrive. And Esposito is also wondering about his statement while counting his blessings that he still has a partner.

Castle pulls up outside the precinct, idling the car while the two detectives depart. Beckett, expecting a phantom kiss, struggles to hide her reaction when Castle opts for a phantom pat to her derriere instead. _Always the rascal. But always effective at lifting my mood_ , she thinks indulgently.

Esposito's about to close his car door when the lightning bolt hits. "Hey, wait a minute. The chair…," he starts, but Beckett intercedes. "Thanks for the ride!" she says to Castle while pushing Esposito's door shut with one hand and Esposito toward the precinct door with the other.

"You bastard!" Esposito shouts while waving a fist at Castle's car. Then, just when Beckett thinks things are calm and they can head into the precinct, Esposito yelps from the bite of an invisible bug.

* * *

 **Castle**

"You sure about this, boss?" Jonas call out from the flying bridge as Castle bustles about the deck, finishing the preparations for their trip.

 _If Beckett bolts as soon as she shows up, this will all be for nothing. And it wouldn't be a surprise, since this isn't exactly what she's signed on for_ , he thinks as he looks up to the glorious sight of Jonas vigorously scratching himself.

"I'm going to head over to the parking area to meet her," Castle calls up to Jonas, who grunts in return. "Once we get here, maybe you could give us a few minutes, wait for our other passenger?"

"If I need to. Personally, I think she'll take off before he shows up. So, double-or-nothing on the last bet? Or are we going with an over/under on how long until she bails?" Jonas asks with a cackle.

"I'm doubling down," Castle replies with bravado. "She'll stay this time." _Of course, I might need another Gamma to heal me once she figures out what's going on._

"More money for me," Jonas chuckles as he turns back to the instrument panel and mutters something to himself that causes him to laugh hilariously.

With an indulgent sigh, Castle gives up the pretense of prepping for their trip. Everything is as ready as it can be, other than the passengers. With a hand that starts in a full wave and switches to an ancient and esoteric rude gesture at Jonas' parting comments, Castle heads towards the parking area to meet Beckett. His timing is perfect, as she's just stepping out of a cab when he ambles up.

"Hey, gorgeous," he says to catch her attention, his heart stuttering slightly at the sight of her delighted smile of greeting. She must be in a good mood, because she lets him lift her bag from the trunk and carry it as they head back toward the boat hand-in-hand.

 _She's radiant – I can't remember the last time she looked so happy and carefree. And it's all about to come crashing down._

Beckett pauses when she sees Jonas on the deck, but sighs in relief when he hops off of the boat and heads towards the parking area. She clasps Castle's hand a little tighter as Jonas passes them without greeting (other than mumbled curses and imprecations), but lightens considerably once he's behind them.

"I was wondering why we were traveling by water, but at least my friend Jonas won't be with us," Beckett says happily as she hops onto the boat, spinning in place while raising her arms and inhaling deeply. It's the pier, not the open water, so the smell isn't fantastic, but it's still better than unabated exhaust and the usual miasma of discordant food stand smells around the precinct. "Are you trying to get me to work on my tan lines?" she asks with a wicked gleam in her eye.

 _You're not making this any easier, Beckett._

"About that," Castle says sheepishly as he steps aboard, heading toward the cabin to store Beckett's bag. "Come have a seat? We need to talk."

"Women don't like hearing that phrase any more than men do, Castle," Beckett says with a raised brow. But Beckett's no coward, she follows Castle into the cabin and takes a seat on the bunk.

"I'm afraid Jonas is coming with us," Castle says with a wince, "I need him to pilot the boat."

 _She does_ not _look happy._

"This is like a fairytale come true," Beckett marvels facetiously. "In all of the times I dreamed about running away with you, I always imagined that we'd have a chaperone like Jonas along for the ride," she says with an exaggerated eye roll.

"So, you've dreamed about this," Castle says in an attempt to distract her.

"Focus," she replies, undeterred. "I swear, Castle, if you think I'm doing _anything_ romantic while he's on the boat with us, you're crazier than I ever imagined you could be."

"Of course not," Castle answers quickly. " _I'm_ creeped out by that, too. But he's here because we need to change the nature of our get-away, I'm afraid."

 _Forget unhappy, now she just looks hurt._

"Castle, what's going on? I thought we were on the same page about this trip."

"We were, but things changed at the hospital," Castle starts to explain.

"Dammit, Rick, I told you I'm fine. I only stayed overnight to keep Gates happy. You don't need to coddle me!" she says, her tone of offense threatening to turn towards anger.

"I know, Kate," Castle says quickly to mollify Beckett. "Trust me, if anyone knows how tough you are, it's me."

 _She's still angry, but she's waiting for an explanation. Better make it good._

"Remember when I got to the hospital the other night," Castle asks, "how Lanie gave me hell about being late and your dad shocked me by giving me a hug?"

"Yes," Beckett replies, drawing out that single syllable to encourage Castle to provide more information.

"Well, when he hugged me…," Castle begins to explain.

"Permission to come aboard?" someone calls from outside.

"That sounds like…," Beckett trails off, paling immediately. "Castle, please tell me you didn't invite my father to join us for our romantic get-away."

 _Oops._

* * *

 **Beckett**

"He's early," Castle says, then cringes. "Kate, I can explain."

 _Apparently magic doesn't make men any smarter or socially gifted. What in the hell were you thinking?!_

"If your explanation has anything to do with asking permission to do _anything_ ," Beckett growls, "all the magic in the world won't save you."

"Just…," Castle falters. "Just stay. Please. I promise you this, Beckett – you'll understand as soon as we get your dad aboard and talk."

"Am I going to be any happier after this talk?" Beckett challenges.

 _Let's hear it, Castle. Tell me the story that'll make this okay._

"No," Castle answers as he sighs and moves toward the door of the cabin. "You won't be happier. But you'll understand."

His answer knocks Beckett back. _Castle wants this at least as much as I do. If he's put it on hold, something big must be going on._

Moving quickly to join Castle, she exits the cabin to see that her dad's already aboard and greeting Castle while Jonas bustles about the boat casting off lines. A subtle hand signal from Castle sends Jonas up to the bridge, where he fires up the engine and takes them out.

"Katie?" Jim Beckett asks as Beckett joins the two men on the deck. "I thought you weren't well?" he asks of her while turning to look at Castle.

"Come on," Castle gestures to them both. "I'm afraid I lured you both here under false pretenses. I'll explain in the cabin. Jonas is going to take us out towards Governor's Island. After you two make your decision, we'll either head for open water on the way to the Hamptons or come right back."

"What decision?" the Becketts echo in stereo. Castle doesn't answer, instead stepping into the cabin and assuming they'll follow.

 _Martha's sure taught him how to set the stage_ , Beckett thinks with a shrug. Then, after a belated greeting hug for her father, she gestures toward the door.

Castle's already taken a seat on the only chair in the cabin, leaving the Becketts to sit across from each other on the narrow bunks. In the cabin's cramped confines, they're all within arm's reach of each other.

Castle is visibly discomfited by having both of the Becketts staring at him, but neither of them speaks, instead choosing to wait until he provides an explanation.

 _Dad's a natural interrogator_.

"I fully appreciate that I'm significantly overstepping here," Castle says, and already Jim and Kate are looking at each other with raised brows before refocusing on Castle. "But you _both_ know that I've been in love with Kate for a while," Castle says while blushing.

 _Guess there's no magic shield against a father's judgment of his daughter's suitor._

 _Wait a minute, how would dad know about Castle's interest in me?_

"For more than three years, I've been at her side while she's continued her fight to find some peace in the wake of losing her mother," Castle says, pulling an audible gasp from Beckett and a low groan from her father. "I've seen what this has done to her, how hard she fights to be strong and carry on. That's my defense and motivation. I can't just sit here and watch her lose her other parent."

Castle pauses to let his words sink in. After a few moments, he stands and nudges past them to the door, where he turns to face them and finish his explanation.

"Jim," Castle says gently, "I know you've fought your own battles and have the scars to prove it. I wish I could've helped you then. But I can help you now. I need you to share your diagnosis with Kate."

All movement in the cabin stops as Jim stares at Castle and Beckett stares at her father.

 _Dad?_

"Kate, I need something from you, too," Castle says gently, calling her attention to him. "Tell him what I can do. There are no promises, but I think I can at least buy you more time together. You should know, though, that I think the connection might work in reverse. It'll take a lot of energy. Even on the open water I might need your help," he says while tapping on his chest where the shadow of her scar appeared.

Wordlessly, Beckett reaches out to Castle, who grabs her hand like a lifeline and then bends over to place a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"I'm going to leave so that you can speak privately," Castle says gently. "I need you to decide what happens next – an immediate return to the dock or a therapeutic journey at sea. I'll be up top with Jonas, who just happens to be the only one who can get us back. So, no mutinies," he jokes weakly. Then, after kissing it quickly, he releases Beckett's hand and leaves the cabin, sliding the door closed behind him.

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

 _I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this._

"Dad, what's going on? What was Castle talking about?" Beckett asks.

 _She sounds like a little girl again._

"I didn't want to tell you," Jim says quietly, looking at Beckett's hands, clasped together in her lap. "I know you already have memories of me that you regret. You've seen me at my worst, Katie. I didn't want to add any more."

"What didn't you want to tell me?" Beckett asks in a tremulous voice. Looking up, Jim sees unshed tears in her eyes and hates himself all the more for the cost of his addiction.

"I've got hepatic cancer, Bug," he answers in a low voice. Beckett's frozen in place, the tears that have broken free providing the only movement on her side of the cabin. "Liver cancer. Hepatocellular carcinoma to be precise."

 _That's it, Jim, keep it clinical. Help Katie through this._

"Can it be treated?" she asks with a look on her face that suggests she knows the answer.

"We're trying," Jim replies, trying to sound upbeat. "Chemo doesn't really work with HCC. Usually, the primary treatment is surgical resection, where they'd remove the part of the liver where the tumors are forming. But that's not an option for me."

"Why not?" Beckett asks. "Is this because of your… problem?"

"My weakness," Jim agrees sadly. "Cirrhosis makes liver resection a poor option for me. Combined with the other effects of my drinking, it also virtually guarantees that I won't make it through the waiting list for a transplant before it's too late."

"Dad, why didn't you tell me?" Beckett moans. " _Were_ you going to tell me?"

"I was waiting until after the holidays. After her day," Jim trails off, thinking about their cold, private vigils on the anniversary of Johanna's death. "I didn't want to make that any more difficult."

"But how long have you known? How much time have we wasted?" Beckett asks, anger and frustration warring with sorrow. "You knew this summer, didn't you, when you were taking care of me at the cabin?"

"This is why I didn't tell you, Katie," Jim says, some fire entering his own tone while not answering her question. "Do you know the worst part about being a recovering alcoholic? It's not the cravings, at least for me." _Though those are pretty bad, too._ "It's the pity. Having to look into the eyes of loved ones, family, friends, and see pity staring back... That alone almost makes me want to drink," he sighs in frustration.

 _But I won't, Katie. I swore on your mother's memory that I'd never do that to you again._

"You've lost that look," Jim says thankfully. "I'm not sure when it happened, but the last few years have been so good for us. And you've done so well, Bug. You've healed and you're looking happier than I can remember. The last thing I wanted was your pity again."

"Oh, dad, I'm so, so sorry," Beckett says as she moves to sit beside him, wrapping him in an awkward, sideways hug dictated by the small cabin of the _Writer Buoy_.

 _I've missed this, little one._

Their long coda of sniffles and sighs is finally broken by Beckett. "Dad," she asks gently but directly, "do you want to live?"

"Of course I do, Katie," Jim replies earnestly.

"I'm serious, dad," Beckett interjects. "Don't tell me what I want to hear, just tell me the truth."

 _The truth? The truth is the sooner I die, the sooner I see Johanna again. I'm not sure that I've really been living since she's been dead._

"I don't want to leave you, Katie. I still have hopes of walking you down the aisle, being a grandpa, spoiling your kids, warning them to stay on the straight-and-narrow with pictures of the 'friends' you had during your rebellious years," Jim says with a smile.

"It was hardly _years_ , you big exaggerator," Beckett says with a watery smile.

"From 12 to 19, That's certainly 'years' and perilously close to a decade," Jim teases.

"You're ridiculous," Beckett sighs. "But you're mine. And I want you to stay around for a long, long time."

"I want that, too, Katie. But we play the hand we're dealt," Jim says with a sad sigh.

"Then it's a good thing that Castle's good at cards," Beckett says with a squeeze before returning to the other bunk to sit across from her dad. Taking his hands in hers, she struggles with how to explain these fantastic circumstances before thinking that simple is best.

"Do you trust me, dad?" Beckett asks, causing her father's head to tilt back slightly with a surprised look.

"Of course I do," he says, sounding nearly offended.

"Maybe I'll explain later, or maybe we'll let this pass without questioning it, but he can heal you, dad," she says quietly. "He might even be able to cure you."

 _Oh, Katie, it's too early to be grasping at straws. Soon, but not yet._

"Katie…," Jim begins, before his daughter cuts him off.

"I know it sounds crazy, dad. I didn't believe it either," Beckett says with a surprised huff, finding her voice of skepticism proselytizing on Castle's behalf an odd reversal. "Remember when you visited me in the hospital? Kevin Ryan should've been there with us. There, or in the morgue. But Castle helped him, healed him. And from what he said when he brought us in here, he thinks he can help you, too."

"Rick's an author, Katie, not a doctor," Jim says with some polite humor. "Not that I'd let your last doctor friend near me, either."

Beckett's well-versed at ignoring humorous deflections. "Will you try, please?" Beckett begs her father, new tears following the tracks of the old. "For me? I don't want to be alone, daddy."

 _How can I say no to that? How can any father deny his daughter's tears?_

"Okay, Bug, okay," Jim relents. _But please forgive me if I can't embrace false hope._ "Though I have my doubts," Jim says with an indulgent look as he shifts his eyes to the ceiling as if looking at Castle, "that you'd be alone. That's something I'm sure he _can_ do."

"Don't underestimate Castle," Beckett says as she stands and tugs her father's hands to get him moving. "I've made that mistake before. Not only does he revel in proving people wrong, but he's not quiet about it afterwards."

"Then let's go give him another chance to earn some bragging rights."

* * *

A/N2: I'm having fun experimenting with different perspectives after Espo last chapter and Jim above. Not sure if anyone else will appear (I don't think Jonas' perspective would be especially pleasant, or G-rated), but we'll see. And don't worry, Castle will explain the timing of the decisions in the next chapter.

Thanks for the PMs and reviews. I know this story is an odd one, but it's proving to be a fun one to write, so I'm hoping it at least provides a chuckle now and then.

Finally, for those of you who know me, you might be surprised by the topic of this chapter. Write what you know, I guess. But things are going well, so it's less challenging than might otherwise have been the case.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Beckett**

Beckett has to stifle a laugh as she sees her father waddle out of the cabin in a wetsuit. He's never been especially sporty and the neoprene and lycra make him look ridiculous. His facial expression completes the ensemble, a mix of betrayal and infinite forbearance that reminds her of a cat that's already been dunked in water.

 _It was kind of Castle to think of outfitting dad_ , _though I'm not sure he agrees right now. At least he stayed away from neon colors._

"Lookin' good, old man," Beckett teases as her father steps toward her on the deck.

Jim opens his mouth to retort but can't muster any words. Instead, he scrunches his face even more in displeasure as he gingerly seats himself next to Beckett on the bench.

"It'll be worth it, I promise," she says gently as she pats his knee.

Castle distracts them by hopping off the ladder from halfway up, hitting the deck with a thud. "Be right with you," he says as he ducks into the cabin. Jonas, who has stayed behind the wheel and studiously ignored Beckett, keeps them on course with the throttle wide open as they encounter the rougher water of Raritan Bay.

She's just wondering about how Castle's feeling about trusting himself on the open ocean when the cabin door slides open, revealing her partner wearing just a swimsuit. Despite the seriousness of their circumstances, her mind flashes briefly to their original plans for this trip...

Jim's huff pulls her from her daydream and tells her that he's noticed Castle's lack of a wetsuit. "How is it that the guy going into the water is in swimming trunks while I need a wetsuit to sit in a raft?" Jim asks peevishly.

"Now, now, honey," she says while patting his knee. "Criticism needs to be constructive or it's just whining."

"How long have you been waiting to throw my words back at me?" he grumbles, having hoped for sympathy and gotten a scolding instead.

"Years and years," Beckett admits with a laugh before standing to help Castle, who's trying to wrestle something out of the cabin.

"Give you a hand there, partner?" Beckett asks as she steps up to Castle and rubs his lower back as he bends over to tug something that's caught on the doorframe. Before he can reply, the object comes loose unexpectedly, sending Castle backwards onto his backside.

"My faith in this plan is starting to waiver," Jim says from the bench, earning a very Beckett-like eye roll from Castle.

"You Becketts are a hard lot to satisfy," Castle grumbles as he returns to his task, which turns out to be extracting the pieces to assemble a table on the deck. It's custom fit, with grooves and pins to lock it in place.

"I don't think you have the evidence you need to make that statement about me," Beckett purrs softly, a wicked look in her eyes. "Not after changing our plans for this trip."

Castle blushes immediately, unable to help himself from looking quickly at Beckett's father, sitting right there just feet away.

"We'll get there, Beckett," he promises. "That's incentive to do this right. Now stop talking about anything like that while I'm standing here in swimming trunks."

Laughing, Beckett helps him set up the table. Castle ducks behind the door again and comes back with two boxes that reveal foodstuffs when opened. "Dive in," he says with a gesture. It's an odd mix of food: Greek yogurt, nutritional shakes, fruit, chicken, whole-wheat rolls, and… tofu?

"Interesting breakfast, Castle," Beckett says with lifted brow as her father joins them at the table.

"This isn't a 'no food before surgery' kind of deal. What we're going to do is going to burn a lot of energy. Eat as much as you can now and we'll still probably have to eat during the… treatment, I guess you'd say," Castle says with some embarrassment.

"What, exactly, is the treatment?" Jim asks as he loads his paper plate, studiously not making eye contact but unable to hide the warble in his tone.

"You did it right, Jim," Castle says kindly. "Of all the cancers you could've had, this one gives us the most to work with." Castle pauses to pluck some pieces of chicken out of the container and drop them onto his plate, while Jim looks at him like he's crazy. "What did your doctors say about percutaneous ablation?"

 _Is Castle suddenly a doctor or something? How did he have the time to look into all of this after visiting me in the hospital?_

"They said it's not an option," Jim says sadly. "'Unfortunate tumor location' was the phrase my oncologist used."

"Percutaneous ablation," Castle says while turning to Beckett, "is fancy doctor talk for killing the area around tumors by exposing them to temperature extremes using lasers, microwaves, and cryotherapy. The problem, as your dad mentioned, is that you can't use this approach if the tumors are too close to things your body needs to function – other organs, blood vessels, that stuff. Is that right, Jim?"

"Yes," Jim says, mildly impressed. "Though my doctor took a lot longer to provide an explanation that didn't make as much sense."

"That's what we're going to do – we're going to take care of those tumors with temperature extremes. I can focus enough so that we can target the tumors and not worry about the surrounding tissue. Who knows? Maybe we can even do something about the cirrhosis, too," Castle says optimistically.

Jim looks torn: incredulous about Castle's blithe planning to tackle something that his doctors have said is impossible, but hopeful that his daughter's faith might be well placed.

"When," Jim tries to speak, but his voice cracks and defeats his efforts momentarily. He tries again after his daughter rests a supportive hand on his arm. "When are we going to do this?"

"In about twenty minutes, so eat quick," Castle chuckles. "At full throttle, it'd take us about three hours to get to the Hamptons. But Jonas is going to take us out into the deep water and let us drift while we do this. You'll be in the dinghy," he says while looking at Jim, "I'll be in the water, and Kate will be watching over us from the boat."

After a relatively quiet meal, Castle stands and excuses himself, making his way back to the cabin. Needing a little private time with her partner, Beckett follows.

"Hey, you okay?" Beckett asks as she joins him.

"Just nervous," Castle replies. "I hope I can help him. I don't want you to lose your dad, Beckett."

"He's in good hands," Beckett replies, wrapping Castle in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry about ruining our plans. You get it, though, right?" he asks. "Why we had to do this first?"

"I understand why you're helping us," Beckett says with a raised brow, "but I'm not sure why it couldn't wait until after our romantic getaway."

Castle steps out of their embrace and sits down on a bunk. "This is going to sound bad, but give me a chance to explain?" he says while running this hand through his hair. "It's about priorities. Yesterday didn't go well with Cali," he says with a sigh. "I don't think she bought my explanation for tearing out of our lesson two days ago. Combined with this trip, she's on edge."

 _Oh, Castle, what have you done?_

"So, you chose healing my father over our romantic time away?" Beckett asks.

"If I only have time to do one, I thought that having your father alive and well would be more important for you than memories that couldn't be repeated," he admits.

 _I don't want to choose!_

"I want it all, Castle," she says, tugging on his hands to get him standing again. He opens his arms for a hug, which leaves him completely exposed for her sharp poke to his chest. "And I want us to plan these things together. Don't you think that I should have some role in making these decisions?"

"I'm sorry about that," Castle answers, ignoring her poke and wrapping her up anyway. "I kind of pulled this all together quickly. I didn't want Jim to know that I got a read on him when we were visiting you at the hospital, and I didn't want you to know too early."

"Why not?" Beckett asks, hurt but also curious about the ruse.

"I was worried that you might approach him right away, on land," Castle answers. "I was pretty sure you'd go right at him as soon as you heard anything about his health situation," he says while Beckett blushes, "and I thought he might retreat and retrench."

 _You mean you worried that he might run off and hide in a cabin for three months._

"You're probably right," Beckett admits. "But what about you? I don't mean to frighten you here, Castle, but we're in the open water. Are you okay?"

"To be honest," Castle says with some chagrin, "I've been too nervous about healing your dad to worry about the ocean."

"Distraction therapy," Beckett says with a nod. "If it helps, I can offer something else to distract you," so offers with a sweet kiss.

"Before I forget, take this," Castle says a few minutes later, looking more calm and centered. Reaching into a drawer, he hands Beckett a padded manila envelope. "I'm not sure how much this'll take out of me. I might need to stay on the water to recuperate and I don't know how long that'll take. There's a rental car waiting at the marina. The rental paperwork and directions to my house are in the envelope, along with a key and the security codes."

"Thank you, Rick," she replies intensely. "As much as I was looking forward to our time away together, my dad's important to me. _Thank you_ for watching out for him. And me," she adds. "I do have to admit, though, that what I packed isn't exactly appropriate for a trip with my dad," she teases with an upturned brow.

"Feel free to pillage from my clothes or Alexis' if you need something more dad-appropriate," he answers with a laugh.

"Either it's a long drive, you live in Fort Knox, or there's something else in here," Beckett challenges, waving the envelope to test its heft.

"There're also instructions for reaching out to Simon Chu, a friend of mine who's an oncologist. He'll test your dad on the down low. I'm sure your dad has good doctors," Castle says quickly to allay Beckett's concerns, "but if this works I don't want to draw a lot of attention to Jim's sudden improvement. Will you talk to him about that?"

 _Wait a minute. This is sounding suspiciously like a 'what to do in the event of my passing' situation._

"There's no risk to you, is there?" Beckett asks earnestly. "You're not, like, _absorbing_ his burdens to bear them yourself, are you?"

"I don't think so, not physically," Castle shrugs. "The greatest risk is that I'll screw up and estrange the love of my life by failing to save her father."

"Hey, none of that. You're the optimist in our partnership. You'll do everything you can and then you'll come back to me. We're just postponing our trip, not canceling it," Beckett rallies. "Come back safely and I'll make it worth your while," she tempts, lightening the mood.

"Still wearing just a swimsuit here, Beckett, and still have to face your father," he grumbles.

"Just think of how cold the water will be," she sasses back, getting an exasperated look in return.

After that, the planning goes quickly. Grumbling while he waddles, Jim moves to the cabin to visit the head one last time while wondering how he's going to get out of and back into his wetsuit. Castle and Jonas wrestle with inflating the dinghy and securing it to the _Writer Buoy_ with a tow line. When Jim returns, Castle's donning a water-skiing jacket through which he's tied a line to lash himself to the raft. Five minutes later, Jim's floating in the raft about twenty yards behind them, Castle's bobbing in the water holding his hand, and Beckett is left alone on the boat with Jonas.

 _This'll be a pleasant afternoon. Guess I'd better at least try to be polite._

"Jonas, would you like some food?" Beckett asks, cursing herself for sounding hesitant. _Treat him like a suspect. Don't ask questions, just tell him how it's going to be._

"Oh, no, princess," Jonas says silkily, "that's all for you. You're going to need it," he finishes with a challenging look.

"Do we really have to do this?" Beckett replies in exasperation, though she moderates her voice to include some frustration, too. "I didn't know what he went through until just recently. I'm here now, and I'm staying. Doesn't that count for something?"

"How is this any different than last summer?" Jonas challenges. "All I see is him going through hell for you again. You got any cousins, any sick pets for him to tear himself up for after this?"

"What am I supposed to do?" Beckett asks in dismay. "I love my dad and want him to be okay. I love Castle and want him to be okay. Rick thinks that he can help dad, so I'm going to sit here and do whatever I can to help, even if it's just watch over them and pray."

What she said or how she said it causes Jonas to bite down on his next insult and reconsider for a moment. "Tell you what, tough girl, we'll talk again when they're done," he says with a nod out toward the raft. "Let's see how you're feeling later, then we'll talk."

 _I'm not sure what that means, but I can deal with a cease-fire._

"Fine," Beckett replies, trying to be polite.

"You'd better get set up," he says while jerking a thumb toward the cabin. "You'll need all your food and drink within reach, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna be your nursemaid."

Grumbling but unwilling to ignore Jonas' advice lest it cost her dearly later, Beckett steps into the cabin to set things up only to see that Castle's already taken care of it. She's not sure how he managed to get this done with everything else going on, but it makes her smile. _Which is probably why he did it._ She sits down on the bunk, testing her reach and adjusting certain items, going out to the deck to retrieve a couple extra bottles of water, just in case. Then it's back to the deck to sit and watch Castle and her father bob on the waves.

It's only fifteen minutes later when she begins to feel dizzy. Standing to make her way to the cabin, an unexpected twist of her stomach has her on her knees, perilously close to losing what she's managed to eat so far. Fighting the nausea, she struggles to pull herself upright and make her way to the cabin. Looking up as she reaches the door, she sees Jonas watching her, silently.

She makes it to the bunk just as another twist radiates out from her midsection. It's hard to understand where the pain is coming from – there's no sharp spike, just a diffused, hollow emptiness that seems to be pulling her apart from the inside. Fumbling about for a bottle of water, she finally succeeds in grasping one, wrenching it open and downing half in one draught. The rest she pours on her chest and head, seeking some solace from the burning sensation that followed the pain, radiating outward from her scar.

A while later the process starts again: hollow, freezing pain followed by a wave of fire. She's struggling for another bottle when someone lifts her hand, placing an open bottle into it and holding on until it's clear that she has control. After using this bottle as she used the first, she flops her head to the side to see something shocking: Jonas, looking compassionate.

 _Must be hallucinating._

"Your connection is working in reverse," Jonas says softly while opening one of the nutrition shakes and inserting a straw. "Rick's burning hot right now and his body is reaching out for help. You need to keep drinking," he says as he nudges her lips with the straw.

"Not… nursemaid," Beckett manages to speak before another wave of pain radiates through her, forcing her to grit her teeth and clench her jaw. _If this is what childbirth feels like, I might just settle for adopting Alexis_ , she thinks, too tired and hurting to consider the broader implications of that thought.

"I'm lookin' out for me, not you," Jonas replies, rummaging around for a paring knife before breaking an apple down into slices so thin they practically dissolve in her mouth. "Rick might be a big dope about you, but he's a good guy. He lets me live on his boat for free and he owns a bar. Can't bite that hand just 'cause he's got shitty taste in women."

"Thanks," Beckett grinds out, though the burning sensation that follows the initial pain is fading. "How much longer?" she manages to ask, hating herself for how weak she sounds.

"He guessed it'd take about four hours," Jonas replies in a doubtful tone, "but it's not like he's done this before. Hell, even Joseph didn't try anything this stupid." Jonas stops talking until he sees the pleas in her eyes, which prompts him to recall her question. "So, just over three hours left if he's right."

 _I'm not even a quarter of the way there?!_

Her despair fades quickly, though, as she remembers why she's doing this. With her eyes closed, Jonas can't see her building her internal resolve, so he tries for his version of a pep talk.

"I thought you were stronger than this," he chides, probably trying to stoke her anger (or cheer himself up). "Big, bad NYPD detective. Your soft, tagalong writer went through this for a week, and you're bitching about four hours?"

 _A week – I want to cry about a couple hours and he did this for a week? And all for the reward of being blown off for three months. Oh, Castle, how did you manage?_

"He managed because it was you, the damned fool," Jonas grumbles, making Beckett realize she spoke out loud. "'Love makes the weak man strong' and all that crap," he continues, waving a bottle of water around as he gesticulates. "You don't know how many times I told him to just let go."

"He'd never do that to me," Beckett cringes, feeling another wave coming on.

"Which's why you don't deserve him," Jonas replies as he hands the water to Beckett, who almost misses the "yet" he adds softly.

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

"Katie, it's time to wake up," Jim says as he gently nudges his daughter's shoulder. It takes several tries before she shows the initial signs of rousing.

 _Just like old times. Let's hope she's less of a bear now than she was as a teen._

"Castle?" Beckett asks as she blinks, trying to fight through her confusion.

"No, just your old dad," Jim says with a smile. "Rick's still asleep out in the dinghy."

Fighting to rise into a sitting position, Beckett feels dizzy and weak and achy, as exhausted and sweaty as if she'd run a marathon. It takes her a few minutes to get herself under control, after which she looks at her dad. There's a nearly audible *click* as she comes back to herself, her eyes showing her usual focus.

"How are you feeling, dad?" she asks, the last word slurred by a massive yawn that sneaks up on her.

"I feel fantastic," Jim beams, "though that might just be the result of getting out of that wetsuit."

 _That must be the looks she uses with criminals. And Rick._

At his daughter's piercing stare, he tries a different answer. "I do feel great, Katie. Too soon to tell if today's adventure did anything, but I feel better than I have in years."

"We'll get you checked out," Beckett promises as she throws her legs over the side of the bunk, preparing herself to stand. "Where are we?"

"The marina in the Hamptons," Jim answers, looking at his daughter with concern. "Jonas just tied us up. He's gone to get the car for us, then he's taking the boat back out. Something about Rick doing better out on the water?"

"Need to see him," Beckett says as she stands and sways, nearly toppling over before Jim catches her. In an awkward, sideways shuffle, Jim maneuvers them out of the cabin and onto the deck. Helping his daughter perch on the side, he grabs the towline and starts reeling in the dinghy.

 _Getting old, Jim. Pulling in a dinghy shouldn't be this much work._

Just as he's congratulating himself for bringing the dinghy in, he hears an odd flop while wiping his brow. Looking round, he sees his daughter has abandoned ship to end up sprawled out atop a pale and feverish Rick. He's just trying to figure out how to get her back into the boat when Jonas arrives. It takes Jonas a moment to realize what Jim's looking at, since he can't see it from his position on the dock. But when he jumps aboard, he looks down with a long sigh.

"Do you suppose we could pile in some blankets or something and let them both sleep in the raft?" Jim asks hesitantly.

 _Even exhausted, they look like they belong together._

Heaving another massive sigh, Jonas merely nods before grumbling into the cabin and returning with several wool blankets and a picnic box. Dropping it all on the dock, Jonas manages to pull the dinghy around so that he can remove Castle's life-jacket and move the passed out occupants into a position that looks somewhat comfortable before burying them in blankets.

Levering himself up with a groan, Jonas stretches before addressing Jim. "You wanna sleep at his place or on the boat?"

"Maybe we should stick together," Jim says, feeling guilty about how their efforts seem to have exhausted his daughter and her partner.

"Just so ya know, it's a small cabin and I snore like a drunk grizzly on a Harley," Jonas warns, but Jim dismisses him with a casual wave. Then, with a huff, Jonas goes about returning the rental car to the parking area before taking them back out to sea.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Castle, wake up," Beckett whispers in his ear before she kisses his cheek, scratching herself on his stubble. She repeats this a few times, testing the other side of his face, too, until she notices the slight upturn of his lip that reveals that he's awake.

 _Not this again. You need some new tricks, partner._

Discarding thoughts of dumping him out of the dinghy or dousing him, Beckett instead grabs both ears as she plants an enthusiastic kiss atop his blossoming grin. She pulls away when he pursues her mouth, admonishing him with a waggling finger.

"No way, Romeo," she says with a smile. "We're almost to the dock and my dad is here. You need to get cleaned up and take me out to dinner before we take that any farther."

"We're almost to the Hamptons already?" Castle asks with a little confusion, stretching his arms as high as they'll go while pointing his toes, too, providing Beckett with a taut, bare abdomen that she can't resist rubbing.

 _Just you wait, Castle. We're going to repeat this scenario without observers sometime very soon._

Apparently exhausted by the effort of stretching out, Castle slumps back into position in the raft, but manages to keep his eyes open and on Beckett.

"Castle, we spent two nights in the Hamptons before heading out this morning. We're almost back to Pier 32. You've been out for more than 48 hours," she says while failing to resist the urge to cuddle back into him.

"Seriously?" Castle asks, bringing an arm up to rub her back. "How's your dad? How're you? Alexis!"

"We're fine," Beckett soothes. "Not sure about how things went – dad's appointment with Dr. Chu is tomorrow. I called Alexis, told her that we were away for a case and that we were lying low. Martha made sure to be around for her."

"Thank you," Castle says, visibly relieved that someone looked after his daughter. "I'm not going to raise any hopes before Simon takes a look, but I think I did all that I can for your dad. How long did it take?"

 _A lifetime._

"Almost ten hours," Beckett answers, proud of herself for answering without flinching.

"It drained you, didn't it?" Castle asks, not fooled. _Damn that connection._

"A little," Beckett plays down, causing a huff from Castle. "Okay, fine," she admits. "It wasn't fun and I've shocked the precinct by taking a sick day. How did you do that for a week?"

"You needed me to," Castle answers simply. "I think I could do it in less time now that I have some idea what I'm doing, but let's not test that theory, okay?"

Beckett can only reply with a fierce hug, hoping that it conveys her appreciation for his effort on their behalf. Castle doesn't object, tightening his hold for a moment, too.

"So, uh, what did you think of the beach house?" Castle asks with some embarrassment.

"Never saw it," Beckett replies. "Didn't seem right to go without you. We stayed on the boat. Well," Beckett clarifies, "dad stayed on the boat with Jonas. I stayed here with you."

 _But trust me, Castle, we'll be heading back to the Hamptons. I still want my do-over._

Castle's about to reply when he hears the _Writer Buoy_ 's engine downshift as Jonas guides the boat into Slip 47. Shortly thereafter, the engine cut off entirely, leaving them to drift until Jonas and Jim start to pull them in.

"Are you telling me that we spent more than two days together in this tiny raft, wearing very few clothes, and I don't remember _any_ of it?" Castle asks incredulously.

"You were _incredible_ ," Beckett husks. "I'm hoping I'll be able to walk when we get to the dock."

 _Oops. Overdid it._

Castle appears to be petrified, mind jammed into neutral by the shocking thought that he finally made love with Beckett and can't recall a second of it. _Better snap him out of it before he goes fully catatonic._

"You are so easy, Castle," she says with a chiming laugh, prompting a slowly dawning realization for Castle. "I slept nearly the whole time, too," she says with a smile and a nudge. "Trust me, the next time we sleep together, it'll be _unforgettable_ ," she says, drawing out the last word until she nips his ear playfully.

"Not again," Castle groans. " _Still_ in swim trunks, _still_ need to face your father."

"Actually, Castle, dad and I are going to catch a cab and head home," she says gently. "I don't think you're ready for prime time yet. Not that you don't look ruggedly handsome, but I don't think you have the strength to stand right now. How about one more night on the water? Jonas and I think you need to recharge a bit more."

"' _Jonas and I_ '? When did that happen?" Castle asks. "You two weren't exactly pals when we left for the Hamptons."

"I think we've reached a fragile accord," Beckett answers. "Let's just say we understand each other a little better now. Good enough to make some plans, anyway."

"Oh yeah?" Castle asks, intrigued and a little bit jealous. "Anything I should know about?"

"Let's just say this: you'd better rest on the water tonight, because Jonas is going to make himself scarce tomorrow night," Beckett says in a sultry voice. "It might not be the Hamptons, but pick me up from the precinct tomorrow afternoon and we'll go for a moonlight cruise that'll be _much_ more fun if you're well rested."

* * *

A/N2: Posting early this week since I'll be off at a recruiting event this weekend. If things go well, I'll have another chapter ready by early next week.

Back in chapter three I mentioned that this story has an intermediate ending point and one that's a little farther out. The intermediate end is written and will appear in chapter ten. I'm trying to push through to the longer resolution. I'll know if it'll work by the time chapter ten posts.

Finally, a big, big thanks to my fanfic friends GeekMom and Aalon. Both have had kind words for my stories. And CaskettFan5, who writes great stories and provides very good beta and encouragement. One of the best, most humbling aspects of writing is getting nice comments from great writers. If you haven't given their stories a try, you're missing out on great reads.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

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* * *

 **Castle**

"Where's Beckett?" Castle asks as he enters the bullpen to see Ryan and Esposito tossing a nerf basketball back and forth across their desks.

"She's still in the box," Ryan answers while looking at Castle, jarring slightly when Esposito's throw rebounds off the side of his head.

"Taking apart a suspect?" Castle asks, intrigued and wondering why the boys aren't participating.

"Nope," Ryan says, standing to lead Castle over to the observation room. "Trying to get a lead on a guy we need to find."

 _No, no, no! I've been looking forward to tonight's agenda for_ *far* _too long to let a case get in the way._

"So, who's in there?" Castle asks, wondering if he can improve Beckett's odds of breaking free for this evening.

"Two punk kids who hang with the guy we want. Goth vampire wannabes," Esposito says with a roll of his eyes.

 _Vampires? Sweet!_

"Why didn't you say so?" Castle says in sheer delight, quickly opening the door to observation and stepping into the room.

As he steps up to the one-way mirror, Beckett looks directly at him. He suspects it's some feedback from their connection, but Ryan and Esposito both say "Creepy" at the same time, before looking at each other for a coordinated fist-bump/arm-pump.

Across the table from Beckett sit two kids, probably around Alexis' age. Both are adorned in patched and distressed black leather and torn black jeans. The guy has half of his head shaved, with his long dyed-black hair from the other side swept over the top of his head in some dramatic fashion statement. _Nice, buddy. You'll be back to the comb-over in about 20 years, when you'll lament having done it voluntarily._

The other kid is a young woman who might be quite attractive, though it's hard to tell with the white makeup, black lipstick, and black eye shadow. Her hair is fire-engine red, probably her form of rebellion from the counterculture in which everything is black. Both kids are slumped in their chairs, their lax postures and slack features attesting to their boredom and lack of concern about their current circumstances.

Looking back at Beckett, he sees her tilt her head slightly, beckoning him in. Based on her quirked eyebrow, he's guessing that she's game for something to shake this meeting up and hopefully expedite the process.

"Is this being recorded?" Castle asks while turning to Esposito.

"Nah, we know they're not directly involved. Beckett's trying to pressure them for some information, but Count Chocula in there has a dad at some fancy law firm. He doesn't want to call him," Esposito leads in.

"Dad's aren't cool in the Goth crowd," Ryan continues.

"'Specially rich ones," Esposito adds.

"So he's playing smart guy himself, knowing we can't do anything," Ryan finishes.

Nodding, Castle steps towards the door. The boys watch him with interest, wondering how Beckett's going to react to Castle walking into the interview.

 _Okay, kids, you want vampires? I'll give you a vampire, and not of the sparkly-angsty-new-age crap variety, either._

"Mr. Selene, I didn't expect to see you before evening," Beckett says as he enters the room, already thinking on the same lines. The kids muster the energy to look in his direction, dismissing him almost immediately.

 _Nice pick for the name, Beckett! Now_ there _was a hot vampire. Unless you mean the moon goddess, in which case we've got to work out our gender roles._

"I was in the basement," Castle says simply, standing behind Beckett with his arms crossed, leaning back against the mirror.

 _These kids aren't very observant_ , Castle thinks, holding his position for a while. Just as he's about to give up, the girl's eyes go wide and she sits up straighter in her chair. Adapting Calypso's illusion trick to mask his reflection seems to have finally caught her attention.

Beckett sees the change in the girl's posture and moves ahead without looking back at Castle. "Mr. Selene is a… an interested party," she explains. "We trade services on occasion. He's demonstrated a certain effectiveness in locating people we'd like to find, a certain affinity for navigating the darker parts of the city."

Castle smiles at his partner's description, letting his wide grin show his illusorily-enhanced canines to good effect, careful to keep his back to the mirror so the boys are none the wiser. _Better throw in a little sparkle off the fangs – doofus over there still hasn't caught the reflection problem_.

The girl looks panicked now, having noticed both of the tells that Castle displayed. In what she thinks is a casual move, she stretches her arms to distract attention from the kick she delivers to her companion's chair. But he still doesn't notice anything.

Trying to emphasize his lack of a reflection, Castle steps forward and slowly ranges side to side behind Beckett and in front of the mirror. The sudden jolt tells him that Goth-boy finally realized what his friend saw immediately. Now they're both looking slightly panicked.

"Detective Beckett," Castle says in a low purr, throwing some vocal distortion into the mix along with shadows that cling to him and blur his outline as he walks around the table to pass behind the kids, always hidden by his body from the observation window. "Perhaps your guests are thirsty? I suspect that if you go get them something to drink, they'll be much more cooperative upon your return."

The Goth kids look like they like this plan even less than they like Castle walking behind them.

"Mr. Selene, you know we're not supposed to leave you unattended with suspects again," Beckett replies as if she's admonishing for something naughty he's done in the past.

 _Beckett's really, really good at this. Maybe I'll threaten to tell Mother about her acting skills._

"These are suspects?" Castle said with surprise.

"That's true," Beckett ponders aloud as if this would permit her to leave him alone with them unattended. "I don't have anything on which to hold them. I was just seeing if they were interested in assisting the police in locating a person of interest. But they've made their lack of interest apparent."

"Wait…," says the girl, though Castle speaks over her.

"Then you should release them. If we have any difficulty finding their friend, I'm _certain_ that I'll be able to locate them again," Castle says with a feral grin as he sniffs the air while running his eyes over both of them, lingering on their necks. "In fact, let me walk them out."

"McClellan's!" shouts the boy while his companion nods fervently. "You know the bar McClellan's? There's a room off the office where the owner lets us crash sometimes. He's there!"

"Really?" says Beckett with some skepticism. "This seems like an interesting lead, if somewhat unlikely. Mr. Selene, would you mind staying with these two while we check it out?"

"No!" shouts the girl, sliding her chair over to shift herself slightly behind her friend. "Send him! We'll stay here with you."

"I thought you were anxious to leave?" Beckett asks with false solicitousness. "But very well. Mr. Selene, will you arrange for a visit to McClellans?"

Heaving a sigh of disappointment while again casting his glance over the kids, Castle mutters "As you wish," in a disappointed tone. Then, after engaging in a ferocious stretch in front of the mirror to drive his point home, Castle leaves the interrogation room.

"Dude, what the hell was that?" Esposito asks as Castle emerges from the observation room with Ryan quick on his heels.

"Teamwork," Castle replies with a shrug.

"What's so scary about _Mr. Selene_? Why did they tell you anything?" Ryan asks, missing his partner's assessing look at Castle.

"Just acting, boys," Castle says with a wave of the hand. "You can thank my mother next time you see her. Now, are we going to McClellans or what?"

* * *

 **Beckett**

"You know we can't do that often, right?" Beckett says from behind the wheel of her cruiser as they head toward a parking deck two blocks from the pier. They're a little off course due to the need to pick Castle up from a pre-arranged spot away from the precinct, but it's only added five minutes to the drive. Ryan and Esposito are dealing with their suspect who had, indeed, been sleeping off a serious bender at McClellan's, but they still would've noticed Beckett and Castle leaving together.

 _And gossiped about it like… middle-aged male homicide detectives._

"I know," Castle replies with a sigh. "I'll claim today as a special occasion. At least I hope it'll be," he says with a hopeful expression as he looks over at Beckett.

 _Trust me, partner, I hope so, too._

"Damn right," Beckett says with an emphatic nod. "No more delays, no more precinct, parents, or nosy teachers. Tonight's the night, partner."

"Kate Beckett, cutting loose?" Castle says with a raised brow from the passenger seat.

 _We've come full circle._

"Oh, Castle, you have no idea," she replies with a look of self-assurance that Castle can't stop an impulsive swallow.

"Seems to me I've heard that promise before," Castle replies, letting his tone suggest his disbelief.

"Wait a minute," Beckett objects before pausing the conversation long enough to fight through a crowded intersection. _I've never been more tempted the throw on the lights and siren to clear a path_. "Are you seriously challenging me on this?" she asks confidently as Castle shrugs. "I accept all this _magic_ stuff but you're doubting _my_ abilities?"

"As I keep trying to tell you during our cases, Beckett," Castle says while shaking his head in mock frustration, "it's all about the evidence, not wild, unsubstantiated conjecture." Castle pauses to wait out Beckett's unladylike snort of disbelief before continuing. "As a rational empiricist, I'm afraid I'll have to reserve judgment until we collect evidence. Lots and lots of evidence," he finishes with an eyebrow waggle.

 _Ridiculous man. You want evidence, I'll give you evidence._

"Evidence? Castle, if you brought any supplies from CSU I'm turning this car around," Beckett threatens, though her smile belies her tone.

"Do cuffs count?" Castle asks.

"Of course not. We've always known those would be useful," Beckett says with a laugh, at which Castle does a double-take and wonders what he's gotten himself into.

After Castle's pondering turns into wishful thinking, it takes Beckett a few tries to get him to return his attention to the present. "So, how did your session with Cali go today?"

"We worked on her illusion thing, as you saw. Well," he hedges, "as you didn't see. But our goth friends did."

After a laugh that Castle joins, Beckett presses on. "So, she was okay about your disappearance, especially on the heels of running out of her session with you to save us?"

"She was sweetness and light personified," Castle says. "She was more patient during today's lesson than she's ever been."

 _If we weren't heading off for our postponed romantic getaway, this might make me… Okay, that's a lie. I'm still not comfortable with this._

"That's good," Beckett says carefully.

Castle's reaction is not what she expected. Rather than laugh or brag about his irresistible magnetism, he turns in his seat to face her with an incredulous look. "You're kidding, right?"

"What do you mean?" Beckett asks, honestly confused.

"Beckett, I've been treated like that exactly three times in my life," Castle says while holding up three fingers. "Each time shortly preceded a woman tearing my heart out. Figuratively. That's the kid-glove treatment that lies in the valley between the peaks of making an uncomfortable decision and following through on it," Castle explains. "Cali's decided what she's going to do about me and she's coming to terms with doing it."

"You think she's coming after you?" Beckett asks, reflexively checking the rear-view mirror.

"I think it's inevitable at this point," Castle sighs. "She's taking a break tomorrow, then wants to move our session for the day after," he explains. "Ever been to Palisades Park in Jersey?"

"Once, years ago for a field trip," Beckett answers, her knit brow testament to the uncomfortable conversation and the traffic. "That's the place with the 200 foot cliffs overlooking the Hudson River, right? Is that close enough to water to help you?"

"I doubt it," Castle answers with a sigh. "I don't think she's suggested there to keep me away from the water, though. She doesn't know anything about my element. In fact, she'd probably be surprised that I know anything about home elements."

"So, she must be playing to her strengths," Beckett postulates. "Granite? Crushed stone?"

"It could be almost anything," Castle agrees. "My best guess is the basalt from the cliffs, but it could be the sandstone, rockslides, the indigenous trees, or something else."

"You're not going, are you?" Beckett asks, but she knows the answer.

"I have to," Castle says, his attempt at nonchalance failing. "She knows who I am, so it's not like I can dodge her forever. It's better to face her head-on, someplace where there won't be bystanders. Besides, the longer I stall, the more likely she'll be to come for me or Alexis or you."

"Is Alexis safe?" Beckett asks immediately. "You should be with her tonight, shouldn't you? After missing all those days after helping my dad, she must be missing you." Guiltily, she realizes that her plans for Castle didn't account for his daughter and how she must be missing him.

"No worries, Beckett, the women in my life always miss me," he says grandly. "But she's fine. A quick, impromptu trip to visit her mother seemed like a wise idea."

"I'm going with you," Beckett says resolutely, switching topics in the hopes of ambushing Castle. "If you're going to face Cali, you're not going to do it alone."

"How about this?" Castle suggests. "I don't want to think about anything but you right now. Tonight, we celebrate life and being together. Tomorrow, we'll figure out how to resolve the Cali situation."

 _It's not that easy. I'm finally here with you and I don't want to think about what could threaten us already._

"I don't know if I can just ignore it, Rick," Beckett laments.

"You're not giving me enough credit, partner," Castle cajoles with a wicked smile as his hand lands on her upper thigh. "I've spent _years_ coming up with ways to help distract you. And trust me, I'll help you forget your first name, much less anything else."

"Now who's boasting?" Beckett asks, cutting him a sly look.

"Evidence, Beckett. I'll prove it to you," Castle says happily.

"We'll see. You'd better line up some of your favorite distraction plans for tonight," she challenges with a quick look before returning her attention to traffic.

Sometime while he's perusing his mental files from his overflowing 'what to do with Beckett if I ever get the chance' vault, they pull into the parking deck two blocks from the pier. Hesitant to release his more delicious thoughts, he's almost too slow to race to the trunk of the cruiser to carry her bag to the _Writer Buoy._

The short walk to the pier passes in companionable silence until they reach the spot where a cab dropped Beckett of for what she thought would be their first shot at going away together.

 _Seems like we've done this just recently._

"Déjà vu," Castle says as he nods at her bag that he's carrying and momentarily tightens his grip on her hand.

"As long as dad isn't showing up this time," Beckett says with a mock shudder before ignoring Castle's offered arm and tucking herself into his side instead.

"How is he?" Castle asks as the walk along the planks towards Slip 47.

"He's optimistic, but we haven't heard anything yet. He's meeting with Dr. Chu tonight – I think your friend offered an evening visit to make it easier to keep the results of dad's tests off the books."

"Simon's a good guy. He married a friend of Meredith's, that's how I met him," Castle offers, and Beckett's happy to hear that there's no note of bitterness or wistfulness in his tone in reference to Alexis' mother.

"Divorced?" Beckett asks, wondering about the crowd that Meredith, and maybe Castle, ran with years ago.

"No," Castle says with a laugh. "He's a doctor – too good a catch. He and Marie have four kids. They finally had to move out of the city to get a house with a yard and it's killing him. He's already scouting out places for their return once the kids are off to school. He's got his eye on the loft, keeps trying to sound me out about it."

"Didn't you ever think about that for Alexis? Heading out of the city for the idyllic suburban life?" Beckett asks curiously, ignoring the unpleasant thought of the loft without Castle.

"Not really," Castle says with a shrug. "That's why we got the beach house. If we need to unwind and have some elbow room, we get out of the city for a while. But, as great as the house is, the city always calls us back."

"Well, I'm still anxious for my do-over," Beckett says happily. "I want to spend some time on the beach with you."

"No argument from me!" Castle laughs. "I've been trying to get you out there for almost as long as I've pictured you out there," he says impishly as he holds a hand out to help her board the boat and getting only an indulgent head shake in response.

 _If only you knew how long I've thought about it…_

Uncleating the lines securing the boat before hopping aboard, Castle climbs the ladder but stands to the side to make way for Beckett. "You want to drive tonight?"

"Of course," Beckett says decisively, giving him a lingering look from head to toe. "Oh, were you talking about the boat?"

"I thought so but I changed my mind," Castle decides with a gulp. "But if you'd like drive the boat, _too_ , you're certainly welcome."

Laughing, Beckett stands behind the wheel and surveys the instrument panel. It's a little more complicated than she thought as she looks around for a gas pedal. Her confusion isn't completely surprising since she's never piloted a boat before. Despite her brave words, she's not sure she wants to be responsible for sinking Castle's third boat and she _certainly_ doesn't want to do anything that would preempt their plans for later this evening.

"Castle, can you teach me how to do this?" she asks while focusing on the control panel.

"I thought it was like riding a bike. But sure, I'll be happy to teach you how to do this," he says as his hands grasp her hips from behind and pull her against him. "Oh, were you talking about the boat?" he throws her teasing line back at her.

 _It's entirely unfair that he did that by whispering into my ear_ , Beckett thinks, before a well-aimed kiss beneath her ear wipes thought from her mind.

"If you think our other activities are like riding a bike, you're certainly doing something wrong," Beckett challenges while looking at him over her shoulder.

"I assure you that you're mistaken," Castle says as he pays attention to the other side of her neck. "Let me show you."

 _We're going to break some laws if we don't leave soon._

"Castle, get us out of here," Beckett says in a voice so husky she barely recognizes it. But instead of piloting the boat out onto the river, Castle retains his place behind her while guiding her hands to the switches that fire up the inboard motor and turn on the running lights. Then, after placing one of her hands on the wheel and the other on the throttle, Castle helps guide her out of their berth and onto the river.

Once they're free of the slip and into the main waterway, Castle steps back to let Beckett solo. "I'm going to go set some things up, just head that way and keep us in the water," he offers helpfully while pointing at a line on the horizon.

Rather than tease him, though, Beckett revels in piloting the _Writer Buoy_. It's a new experience and she's shocked by how at ease she feels on the water. She'd come here tonight desperate to explore the emotion that's been building to a crescendo between them, but she's surprised to realize that her time behind the wheel is centering her, helping her to find a gentle peace.

Ten minutes later she's startled when Castle's hands wrap around her waist again. _Some detective – I didn't even hear or feel him climbing the ladder!_ Castle doesn't give her any trouble about being surprised, instead wrapping his arms around her. "Put her in neutral and turn off the engine," he says while pointing to the key, "and drop the primary anchor," he says while pointing to a switch on the panel. For a moment, the sound of the anchor line running out seems too loud due to the cessation of the engine noise. "We made good time," Castle whispers near her ear after propping his chin on her shoulder. "Just in time for the sunset. We'll drift for a few minutes to let the anchor draw tight, then we can drop the secondary anchor and head down for dinner," Castle offers gently.

"I love your element," Beckett says, breaking the peace after a few moments spent holding each other and watching the sun fall. "I never thought much about the water. But it's so peaceful. I feel so… calm. Content," she sighs.

"That's just the company," Castle offers with a gentle kiss to the side of her neck.

"No, the company is making me feel excited," she says while reaching over her shoulder to rub his cheek. "Wild," she whispers before craning her neck around to find his lips. "Wanton," she nearly moans into him.

"Do me a favor?" Beckett asks a few breathless moments later.

"Anything," Castle whispers, probably meaning it literally.

"I…," Beckett starts to say before trailing off, feeling embarrassed. Miraculously, Castle doesn't tease. Instead, he gently steps to her side so that they can embrace face to face, standing in profile to the setting sun.

"Can it be just us tonight?" Beckett asks in a shy voice. "No Gamma stuff, no enhancements or experiments? Maybe we can try that sometime, but for our first time it should be just us, as we were in the beginning."

Castle answers with an enthusiastic kiss. When they pull away, he looks at her with wide eyes that hide nothing. _He knows. He knows that I've thought about this for a long time. This isn't about my shooting or his abilities. This is us finally getting to where we've wanted to be._

Castle reaches over and flips another switch on the console. As the line for the secondary anchor spools out, Castle gestures to the ladder. Turning and standing at the top, Beckett gets an overhead view of his preparations: a cooler with their dinner and snacks, champagne chilling in an ice bucket, and a large mattress already made up for them right there on the deck. And all along the rails of the deck, candles twinkle, their light growing brighter with the setting of the sun.

 _It's perfect._

"Castle?" she asks quietly.

"We can move inside if you'd prefer or if it gets cold, but I thought we might like to spend some time outside and under the stars."

Beckett can only nod as she leads him down the ladder. The only downside of the mattress ( _how did he manage that?_ ) is that there's not much standing room left on the deck. Waiting for him to descend the ladder, Beckett wraps him up again as soon as his feet hit the deck.

"We've got chicken or sirloin," Castle whispers, "along with assorted fruit, chocolate, and whipped cream," he says suggestively. "What would you like?" he asks as he steps out of their embrace to move toward the cooler.

 _Not so fast, partner._

Before Castle can blink, Beckett's executed a perfect takedown, leaving him flat on his back on the mattress and wondering what happened for the split second before Beckett lands astride him.

" _Here's_ what I'd like, Castle," she says as she lets her hands wander. "We can worry about food later, when we need more energy. For now, Mr. Running Water, let me show you how we can make some waves."

* * *

A/N2: I had some fun this weekend and stole enough time to get some writing done, too. So, this chapter goes up a little earlier than planned. As I mentioned to some of the reviewers, the characters have been getting pushed a little hard in this story. After hostage situations, dire medical emergencies, and a disrupted plan to get away, it was time to give them a little break.

A few folks asked about an aside in last chapter's A/N. As I noted there, we had a recruiting event this weekend. We'll have another one next weekend. By then, we'll have had callback interviews with more than thirty undergrads in the hopes of finding three to join us. It's a brutal process, so all you college students out there have my sympathy. I'd say that I'm happy I entered the workforce years ago, except my kids are getting older and have this to look forward to someday. Good thing we all have fanfic for a distraction.

Finally, a pre-emptive comment: those of you who know me know that the next chapter will pick up sometime after the conclusion of the amorous activities. This is a T story, folks, and I lack both the drive and ability to describe certain interpersonal activities. You'll have to use your imaginations, just as Beckett encouraged Castle to do!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Happy Halloween! I'm not sure if this chapter is a trick or a treat, but I held off on posting it until today. Given what goes down, it seemed appropriate.

.

" _Here's what I'd like, Castle," she says as she lets her hands wander. "We can worry about food later, when we need more energy. For now, Mr. Running Water, let me show you how we can make some waves."_

* * *

 **Castle**

 _I can't stop smiling_.

At 5:30 the following morning the _Writer Buoy_ chugs its way back towards Pier 32. Castle's at the wheel, piloting the boat with Beckett curled sideways in his lap, nuzzling his neck gently as they make their way back to start the day.

"You'd better not come to the precinct today," Beckett says as she lays her head against his shoulder. "As it is, I'm walking bowlegged and I'll probably be chirping all day. There's _no way_ I'll keep it together if you're there," she admits while drawing patterns his chest with her fingernail, having taken the liberty of undoing a few buttons.

"At least you can walk," Castle huffs in return. "I'm hoping the feeling returns to my legs by the time we dock," he says as he wiggles beneath her, demonstrating that he might be exaggerating slightly. "But, you're probably right. I'd have to use the illusion trick to stop Ryan and Espo from seeing right through me today. But like you said – no Gamma stuff, just us."

"I still can't believe what we managed to do _that_ without assistance," Beckett marvels even though she was the one making bold claims. "I'm not sure we'd survive anything more intense."

"Sounds like another hypothesis in need of corroborative evidence," Castle whispers, encouraging Beckett's idle patterns to become a little more focused.

"Hey, hey, no starting any funny stuff," Beckett admonishes weakly, pulling herself back. "We still need to get back so I can get ready for work and you can start planning how to deal with Cali tomorrow."

"Later," Castle promises with a sigh. "If I'm not coming in today, could I at least lure you away for lunch?"

"Sure," Beckett answers before she seals her agreement with a kiss. "I'm on trial prep, so I'm not worried about being able to get away."

 _Time to lay the groundwork for more time together._

"Oh, really?" Castle asks with a look of interest. "Would you like to go out for lunch or would you prefer another picnic? If I picked you up and we ate in the car, we'd have a half-hour to do whatever we liked…," he trails off as his hand that should be on the throttle trails down her back to the curve of her bottom.

"Easy, tiger," Beckett laughs happily, then laughs again when Castle looks around as if worried that there is a tiger again. "We both know we wouldn't be able to stop after 30 minutes. If we couldn't stop last night, I doubt that getting back to an overzealous but underwashed ADA will be able to recapture our attention." Noticing his pout, she makes a counteroffer. "How about we go out for lunch near the precinct, and then," she pauses slightly while a blush rises on her face, but she presses on, "you invite me over for dinner? We can talk about the plan for tomorrow and then who knows what might happen?"

 _I guess I'm not the only one thinking about spending more time together! Whatever happens tonight, it's unlikely to be 'planning,' or at least any planning that has to do with Cali. Beckett's already given me a fantastic incentive to make sure I make it back._

"Good plan," Castle says as he hums into a kiss with Beckett. "Now, stop distracting me. I've developed a certain affection for this boat. I don't want to crash it – lots of good memories here," he says as he looks to the deck down below to where a knowing eye can see scratches and other evidence of the time they shared last night. And this morning.

"Won't we wake people as we return?" Beckett asks as they make their approach to Pier 32.

"Not likely. Jonas is about the only resident here," Castle says with a grin. "Safest for everybody that way. I thought this'd be a place for corporate titans and I-bankers to cruise in to shorten their commute, but I was wrong. It's mostly a place for rich people to park their toys."

"So, no philanderers cheating on their spouses by shacking up on their boats?" Beckett asks, unable to keep the hard lessons learned at the precinct from affecting her view of human nature.

 _There's my detective. She'll appreciate the solution to this situation._

"Oh, they're here alright, or at least they were. There's still some of that, though they don't tend to stay all night. A drunken, boisterous, and unruly Jonas perched on the flying bridge with a camera or binoculars tends to dampen the mood," Castle says with a laugh, "especially the morning after. Best watchdog we could ask for, and all it costs is a crate of whiskey on occasion."

 _Even if all the owners don't necessarily agree._

"Something tells me that measuring alcohol consumption by the _crate_ might indicate a problem," Beckett says with an eye roll. But, careful of the fragile détente with Jonas and still glowing from the benefit of the deal she struck with him, she withholds any other comments even though she knows Castle would laugh if she challenged his description of Jonas as redundant.

"Perhaps," Castle says with a laugh. "But trust me, Jonas is usually easier to deal with after he has a few drinks."

"I'd need a few drinks, too," Beckett mumbles as she stands, pulling another laugh from Castle. Trying to be helpful, she descends the ladder to grab the lines and secure them in Slip 47. The process goes so smoothly that a casual observer might think they'd done it for years.

"Don't worry about that stuff," Castle says while waving a hand at the cooler and other remnants of their night together. "I'll walk you to your car and then come back to take care of it."

Beckett answers with a kiss before reaching down to grab her bag, which Castle offers to carry for her. After they both step onto the dock, Beckett wraps him in another hug before sighing and admitting to herself that it's time to get moving.

Holding hands like young lovers, they start their walk to the parking deck when the early-morning calm is rent by an embittered shriek.

"I knew it!" screams an enraged Calypso from the end of the dock.

 _Oh, crap._

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _I should've known that I'd need a weapon after getting together with Castle_.

Beckett's hand clutches the air at her hip, desperate to feel the grip of her handgun. Unfortunately, her department-issued weapon is at home in the safe and her personal sidearm is in the bag that Castle's holding. Thankfully, Calypso hasn't noticed Beckett's attempt to draw down on her, as she and Castle are locked in a silent staredown.

 _Is this some Gamma thing, where they're trying to kill each other with a look, or are they just sizing each other up?_

"I knew she was important to you," Calypso spits at Castle, playing the wronged lover card. "I was going to have you kill her to show your commitment to us, to what we could be and do together. But I don't want _used goods_ ," she says with a look of utter disdain. "So, I'll let you watch me kill her before I feast on you. And then your daughter for dessert," she says with a cruel laugh, "you know, just in case."

If there's a way to galvanize Castle, to ensure that you have the whole of his attention, it's to threaten Alexis and Beckett in the same breath. _You don't know him at all and it's going to cost you everything_.

"Get behind me," Castle says softly, trying to be subtle. Instead, his instruction prompts another laugh from Calypso.

"' _Get behind_ _me?_ '" she sneers. "As if you're some mighty shield. You don't even know how to hide yourself from me and you're acting like this is going to be some big battle? I followed you here, idiot, and have been waiting for you. We'll be done before breakfast," she gloats as a look of concentration settles on her face and her right hand points at Castle.

 _How did she follow him? Castle said that he figured out how to hide from her._

At first, it appears that nothing is happening. Then Beckett feels her hair starting to lift and separate just before a web of electricity crackles around them. While she can see the cascading energy, it seems to be breaking around them, pouring off the sides of an invisible sphere. _Another bubble! This time it saved us from more than a tiger._

Calypso's look transfigures to one Beckett recognizes well: Castle-induced consternation. With a grunt, she throws more effort into her assault. The energy again falls away from them, though the afterimages the bursting light leaves on Beckett's retinas suggest that their protective bubble might be shrinking.

"Impressive," Calypso grunts, "but pointless. You're no match for me at river's edge. You're weak, immature, and inexperienced."

 _River's edge? Oh, crap. That's her element. She's at full strength to face Castle._

"Certainly weak," Castle answers. "And willfully immature. But inexperienced?" he says in a taunting voice, trying to aggravate Calypso. "Please. I'm famous. I've been chased by second-rate attention-hounds and hangers-on since college. I saw you coming a mile away."

 _I hope you know what you're doing, Castle. Some people use anger to focus, and she looks furious._

Screeching in response, Calypso lets her right hand fall to her side. "You think you're special? You think you can stand up to me? You're already weakening, and I'm more powerful here than you can imagine," she says as she suddenly raises both hands.

An upsurge of water rockets upward beneath Castle and Beckett, shattering the boards of the dock and sending them both flying in opposite directions. Beckett lands hard on her back, driving the air from her lungs and leaving her vision blurred and ears ringing from her head's rebound off the dock.

She's still struggling to her knees when she feels the static charge preceding another assault. Again the energy crackles around her and again she's safe. Staying crouched for fear of standing out of her protective shelter, she casts her eyes around desperately. Castle's standing, diverting energy around himself, too, but looking strained. They're separated by a five-yard gap in the shattered dock. To her dismay, Beckett sees her bag dangling from the dock on Castle's side of the gap. Slowly, so as to not draw attention, Beckett begins crawling towards it.

"You can split the flows?" Calypso says in a grudgingly impressed voice. "And you're strong. We would have made a fearsome couple. But you had to throw it away for _that_ ," she says with a sneer directed at Beckett.

 _Screw you. I'm extraordinary._

It's not until she hears Castle's chuckle and sees Calypso's eyes widen that she realizes she spoke out loud. Risking a quick look at Castle, she sees his proud look of delight. In this moment, he looks ridiculously happy, almost beyond words that she's internalized his word of praise for her.

Calypso, on the other hand, looks even angrier. She opens her mouth to retort when Castle points at her and twitches a finger. Copying her trick in smaller scale, Castle sends a jet of water up from the river, slapping the left side of Calypso's face to leave her head tilted to the right.

"You dare…," she starts to yell before another hand twitch applies a jet to the other side of her head, knocking it back upright. With her luxurious locks water-blasted and bedraggled, she looks utterly deranged, so offended by her treatment that she can't find the words to curse him. _In less dire circumstances, I might empathize_ , Beckett thinks with a smirk that Calypso notices.

"Still impressed by my control?" Castle mocks, drawing Calypso's attention back to him. Beckett knows that he's trying to ensure that he holds her attention, but she also knows he's getting tired. She can feel the leading edges of the pull on her chest that she learned so well when Castle was helping her father.

"Fine," Calypso says in a low, dangerous growl. "You want die first? Fine." With electricity still popping around them, Calypso squints, nearly closing her eyes while she glares and concentrates on Castle.

A horrible, screeching cacophony assaults Beckett's ears, as if an entire group of kindergarteners ran to the front of a classroom and used all their tiny might to draw their fingernails across the chalkboard. It takes Beckett a moment to find the source of the noise and she can't believe it when she does: the nails holding the dock planks in place are pulling themselves free. In slow motion, each freed nail pivots in mid-air to point at Castle as if he was magnetic north. With a dark contortion that might be a smile, Calypso propels the nails at Castle with a loud snap, as if an invisible bow launched a pointed, horizontal hailstorm.

As the ringing snap hums out, Calypso's gloating look sinks to confusion when she realizes that the nails didn't hit home. Instead, they're impaled in Castle's protective bubble, peppering the hemisphere facing Calypso. The ongoing electrical attack produces curling strands of energy that gambol from nail to nail, the whole scene looking like a post-expressionist painting of a drunken Tesla experiment.

"I don't like acupuncture," Castle jokes weakly, "or getting shots." The sweat is visible on his brow, beading and rolling down his face. With his own look of concentration, Castle focuses and grows still. Slowly, quivering, the nails begin to rotate. With sudden clarity, Beckett realizes that a miniature tug-of-war is being waged over each individual nail.

 _How can I help?_ Beckett thinks as she looks across the gap to her bag, suddenly wondering if a handgun would do anything in this fight. Letting her eyes drop, she's nearly knocked over by a sudden realization. _Calypso said that she followed Castle here, that she could see him. But what if she was seeing me? What if she can see our connection?_

While Castle and Calypso wage their silent battle, Beckett's locked in a cascading series of thoughts and theories. Their connection. Calypso seeing their energy. Castle drawing on her while healing her father. Feeling Castle's approach when they were held hostage. The calm sense of invigoration when piloting the _Writer Buoy_. Her nightmare that parallels Joseph's fate. The pain she felt in her leg after Castle was attacked by the tiger.

 _What if we've misunderstood our connection all along?_

Too desperate for an advantage to feel foolish about it, Beckett tests her theory by throwing herself off the dock and into the river.

"See how your lover flees," Calypso gloats before her sneer slides off her face and a growing smile appears on Castle's. The struggle tilts in Castle's favor as he appears to catch his second wind. The nails rotate in unison to point at Calypso, any struggle for control resolved. With them hovering in place, Castle slowly raises a hand. When its gradual climb over his head comes to a halt, time seems to stand still as he and Calypso stare at each other for a moment.

 _Castle, stop following her lead. Play to your strengths!_

As if he heard her, Castle casts her a tired look. Then a wink. Then his hand falls to point at Calypso.

Just as it had when Calypso let the nails fly, a loud snap reverberates as Castle returns her volley, this time with nails sparking and popping from the electrical charge that Calypso provided. But that was just the distraction. While the nails fly directly at her, a ball of fire hurtles at Calypso from above, bursting into a cloud of fire that surrounds Calypso and hides her from view.

Drained by his effort, Castle falls to his knees on the loose planks of the dock, panting and sweat-soaked.

 _The_ Book'em Dano _didn't die in vain_.

"Nice ball of light," Beckett praises while bobbing in the river, prompting a small huff from Castle. Just laughing steals more energy from him, leaving him leaning forward on his fists as he gulps air.

Before he can catch his breath to retort, the blaze opposite Castle immediately dies as if smothered by a blanket. Struggling out of her own crouch is a gruesome sight. Calypso, body riddled with nails, clothes and hair still smoldering, frees a yell of such primal rage that Beckett can't help but to curl up on herself in the water.

 _She's going to try to take Castle with her_.

Looking up, Beckett is met with another nightmarish scene. As if caught in a reverse volcano, a torrent of fire materializes over Castle and spills over him. In the eddies of the river of flame, Beckett sees glimpses of him, not yet burning but clearly in distress. Glorying in her advantage, Calypso looks at Beckett and diverts a jet of liquid fire at her.

Both are shocked when the flame separates and flows around Beckett, the sphere protecting her from both the attack and the steam created by the diverted flame. Despite his own distress, Castle's still sheltering Beckett, leaving himself weakened. Beckett sees the exact moment this realization graces the grisly remains of Calypso's once-beautiful face. Sensing her victory, Calypso swells, drawing up her arms to deliver the killing blow.

"No!" Beckett shouts, pouring all her fear and frustration into an impotent cry of fury while lashing out with her arms. Shocked, Calypso turns to face Beckett as Castle struggles away from the dock that's in flames following Calypso's attack. Aside from the cracking and popping of the lingering patches of fire, silence reigns as the three stare at each other. Then, as if synchronized, all three shift their focus to the gaping hole in Calypso's chest.

 _Now you've got a scar, too, bitch_.

Calypso, or what remains of her, begins to fall. But there's no impact. Before her body meets the planks of the dock, it seems to melt into a thick blue mist, leaving only a pile of tattered clothes and deformed nails. The mist swirls as it moves, snaking towards Castle. As Beckett watches, the mist splits. A portion swirls around and into Castle, while the remainder approaches and circles her once before arrowing through her scar and into Beckett's chest.

It feels like someone injected her with ice water. A cold flush surges through her body, washing away her fatigue and fear and leaving her feeling invigorated. Strong.

 _Oh my God. I'm a… No. *_ We're* _a Gamma. *_ That's* _the mystery of our connection, what Castle did in the graveyard – he put some of his power in me._

Treading water easily despite her exhaustion, Beckett plays with this theory until a cry diverts her attention.

"Dammit!" Castle yells out. Wondering if he's come to the same conclusion and is upset about it, Beckett looks up from her position in the water to see Castle staring in dismay at the smoking, sinking wreck of the _Writer Buoy_. Looking away in disgust, he does a quick double-take before yelping again. Following his line of sight, Beckett sees the fire started by Calypso's last attack licking on the pier's fuel pump.

"Castle!" she shouts. _The universe wouldn't let us survive Calypso's attack only to be killed by a marine gas station, would it?_

But Castle's already on the move. With Beckett's bag slung over his shoulder, he's bounding down the dock, already having jumped the gap from Calypso's first attack. He tries to throw himself into a dive when he reaches the end of the dock, but the unsecured and unstable dock planks steal his momentum and balance, leaving the great Gamma of running water to punctuate their victory over Calypso with a resounding belly-flop into the river. As if to punctuate the event or to provide a cosmic laugh-track, the fuel pump goes up just as he breaks the surface, sending a small, smoky mushroom cloud skyward while raining a burning oil-gas mixture on the nearby yachts. Within seconds, the pier is ablaze.

"So," Castle says casually as he treads water next to her. "I guess last night wasn't the first time…"

 _He's come to the same conclusion. We're still on the same page._

"If you say anything about putting something in me, I'll kick your ass," Beckett replies, starting a brief splash fight that has them looking like kids.

"You mispronounced 'kiss,'" Castle says with a grin. "We need to get out of here," Castle sighs while turning back to the burning pier and trying to get serious despite the elation that follows their survival. "There's nothing that ties us to the scene and we – including you – probably threw around enough energy to draw every aggressive Gamma on the East Coast. I had to let the pier go up to help us hide. Time to disappear."

With long, tired strokes, they swim away, thankful for their narrow escape but wearier than they can imagine.

 _I always knew my first time with Castle would be memorable._

* * *

 **Castle**

 _Beckett looks fantastic in a wet shirt_.

"Stop checking me out, Castle," Beckett admonishes when they slip ashore several blocks away from Pier 32, trying to look nonchalant about the fact that they're climbing out of the river while fully clothed. "You've seen me looking much better, and wearing far less, than this."

"It's never enough," Castle replies. "After all this time, you haven't noticed that I like looking at you?"

"Yeah, because you've been so subtle about it," Beckett says sarcastically. Walking over to him to press herself against his side, Beckett sighs as he puts an arm around her and she thinks about everything that's happened in the last few days. "I suppose you can look now," she says as they keep walking, "but I'll show you more later."

Castle's about to let fly some snappy rejoinder when a group of tourists in comically coordinated I-heart-NY t-shirts and hats comes to an abrupt halt before them, staring as if drenched natives were the next item on the tour.

"Visiting New York?" Castle asks genially. "Make sure you behave on the ferry," he says as he looks down at his sodden clothes. As he nudges Beckett to walk around the gawkers, he leaves them with, "And don't even _ask_ what they do to you if try to jump the turnstile to the subway."

"You're terrible," Beckett admonishes with a smile as they resume their walk, leaving the shell-shocked visitors behind.

 _That's not what you said last night!_

Castle offers no denial, instead walking happily at her side for a few moments. "Kate?" he asks, signaling his desire for a serious talk by using her given name. "I know it'll send some people into shock, but how would you feel about taking another sick day? We should talk about what happened, figure out where we go from here."

 _Nice dodge. Now grow up._

He pauses for a moment, looking uncomfortable before soldiering on. "If you need some time to yourself, maybe we could still get together for dinner?"

"Oh, Castle," Beckett says while swinging around to stand in front of him. "I'm going to want my space sometimes, but not today. I want this," she says with a smile. "We've worked hard to get here. I'm happy to be here," she says with a smile while stretching up for a kiss. "What we've learned today doesn't change anything."

"So, you willing to play hooky?" he asks with a relieved smile. "We can get cleaned up, have some fun, get new phones, have some fun, eat, have some fun, check on your dad, have some fun…," Castle suggests.

"I'm sensing a theme," Beckett laughs. "Let's find a phone and I'll call in to the precinct. What's the point, by the way," she asks with a mock glare at her partner, "of magical powers if you can't use them to fix cell phones?"

 _It's not all on me, partner._

"You tell me," he replies impishly. "You're the sorceress of our duo."

With a groan, Beckett realizes that he might be right. "I'm not going to call you Mr. Wizard," she growls.

"Not outside of the bedroom, no," Castle agrees. "That'd just be rude to others," he says virtuously.

"You just don't give up, do you?" Beckett asks in exasperation.

"Oh, Beckett, I'll never give up on you," he replies, the quick shift from joking to serious providing another case of conversational whiplash.

"So, if I call in sick," Beckett offers, trying to get them back on track, "what's on the G-rated agenda for the day?"

"Funny you should phrase it that way," Castle says, "since I was thinking that we should hit a cash-only hotel tonight."

"It's too early for us to role-play 'hot-sheet hotel,'" Beckett says, earning a quirked brow and delighted smile.

 _That came out far too easily to have been made up on the fly. I think my detective's been nursing some fantasies of her own…_

"Beckett, even for the basest role-playing adventure we'll stay someplace nice," he says while looking forward to picking this topic up in the future. "I'm thinking about anonymity. Cali followed your light to us. Until we teach you how to hide, we're at risk."

"You're probably right," Beckett sighs. "I guess we've been lucky so far."

"Don't worry, we'll figure it out quickly," Castle promises. "It was my first lesson and you'll probably be a quicker study than I was."

"Bowing to my superior intellect, Castle?" Beckett asks with a smile.

 _Always._

"Never. It's just that you'll have a much better teacher than I did," Castle replies glibly, fanning his own ego.

Shaking her head, Beckett knocks shoulders with him. "Well, come on, let's get moving. We have to get cleaned up and changed, but we can do that quickly at my place. Then phones, lunch, a check-in with dad, and we'll do a lesson this afternoon."

"And we need to get an appointment to visit Bert," Castle adds to the list.

"Who's Bert?" asks Beckett as they set about the near-impossible task of finding a pay-phone that both functions and from which they won't contract some communicable disease.

"By now, he's probably the richest boat salesman in New York," Castle answers with a shake of his head. "I might as well name the next one _Feeling Moody_ , _Gallivanting Gilderoy_ , or _Quirrell's Quest_ since the damn things don't even last a year."

"Castle, those names are even worse than the ones you've already used," Beckett shakes her head in dismay.

"Challenge accepted, Detective," Castle says decisively. "You help pick her out, then you've got to name her. And nothing Russian!" he adds as a quick afterthought.

"Castle, I can't pick out a boat," she says with a blush.

 _Oh, Beckett. What's mine is yours. Don't you understand that yet?_

"Hey," he replies with a bump to her shoulder. "I'm hoping that you'll spend a lot of time with me on the boat, so I want you to be comfortable there. And…," Castle trails off dramatically, pausing until she makes eye contact with him. "Ready for this part? I'm going to make it scary."

"I'm a big girl," she answers with an overdue eye roll.

"I like the loft. And I like the beach house," Castle says. Beckett nods slowly, her brow furrowed as she tries to connect these statements with their discussion. "I'd prefer to keep them, even though they're pre-you. The boat can be something we experience together from the start."

It takes Beckett a moment to realize what he's saying: this isn't just about the boat. It's about his hopes that there will be a day when they share the loft and beach house. A day when they share a life.

"You don't scare me, Castle," she answers in a voice so tremulous it belies her words. To show her faith, she reaches out and takes hold of his hand, holding tight as they walk down the street, two sodden lovers flowing through a stream of attorneys, investment analysts, and tourists.

 _A public display of affection from Kate Beckett._ Now _I believe in magic!_

"Oh, damn," Beckett interjects with a moan. "Jonas was finally decent to me and his house got blown up as a result. He's never going to lay off me now."

"No, he won't," Castle agrees readily with a smile. "Jonas isn't happy if he's not angry. But it's not as if he hasn't done this before. With any luck it'll be a while before he needs to move again."

* * *

A/N2: I'd thought about ending the story after the show-down with Calypso and Beckett's realization about the connection. I'm going to push through to the longer ending. I might sneak out a different story at the same time – I'm trying to hold off, but I've got an outline for a seasonally-appropriate entry. Anyway, hope you're enjoying this odd story. Let me know!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Is this where…" Beckett trails off, surveying the area. The park is beautiful, so idyllic and quiet that it's difficult to believe that it's only an hour away from the city.

"No," Castle replies in a somber tone. "Joseph and I went to a different park. The river's a little rougher here. I thought we'd better err on the side of caution, give us a stronger element."

Nodding, Beckett looks apprehensive. _I've seen – and done! – things that have no other explanation, but this still seems fantastic_. _I don't know if I can do this._

"Ready to make some magic?" Castle asks with an eyebrow wiggle to distract Beckett.

"Again?" Beckett fires back incredulously. " _After_ we do the Gamma stuff, then we'll make some magic."

Laughing, Castle takes hold of her hand and leads her to the hiking path. After about 15 minutes, they take a game trail, meandering through the scrub to reach the edge of a river in a place less likely to be visited by others. Castle plops down to remove his shoes and roll up his pants, even though they'll be in waist-deep water. With a sigh, Beckett joins him. Whatever else happens during this "lesson," she's unwilling to lose her Fryes to the torrents of the river, especially after sacrificing some beloved ankle-boots to Calypso's attack earlier today.

Stumbling like drunkards as their feet slide on the slippery rocks on the river-bottom, Castle and Beckett make their way to the middle of the river. The water is invigorating, and not just because it's chilly.

"Can you feel it?" Castle asks after they come to a stop in the middle of a section of rapids, speaking loudly to be heard over the tumult. Beckett knows what he's asking despite the vague question and looks him in the eye as she nods. "Describe it to me?" he asks.

"I feel… powerful. Like I'm riding the leading edge of an adrenaline rush. Poised, I guess," she replies, a little embarrassed.

"Where do you feel it?" he follows up. "Where does it start, or where is it strongest?"

"My chest," Beckett answers immediately, reaching up with one hand. "Right at my scar." Noticing Castle nod, she asks her own question. "You, too?"

"No," Castle answers, as if this difference makes him sad. "I'll tell you about mine later. Are you ready to try something?" he asks gently.

 _Come on, Beckett – you've kicked ass at the precinct, the academy, and at school. You're the best at what you do. You succeeded there and you'll succeed here._

"I'm ready, Castle," she says with bolstered confidence.

"I know you are," he says while giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course," Beckett answers quickly with a raised brow.

"I mean really trust me," Castle clarifies gently. "Not trust me to make jokes to cheer you up, not trust me to bring you coffee as a thinly veiled demonstration of my adoration. I mean really trust me, to know in your heart that I will not hurt you."

"I do, Castle," Beckett whispers as she looks at him with wide eyes. Despite the low tone and abundance of background noise, she knows that he hears her.

"Now you're getting ahead of yourself," Castle teases her.

 _Only you, Castle, could make a marriage joke that doesn't have me seizing up. Only you could make a joke about one terrifying situation to distract me from another terrifying situation._

"Close your eyes," Castle instructs. "I'd hold your hands, but we should do this without touching in case that matters. Don't worry," he says kindly, noting her furrowed brow. "I'm right here. I won't let you fall."

 _Of course you won't._

"Now, concentrate on your chest," Castle instructs. He's about to continue when Beckett interjects.

"Are you talking to me or thinking out loud?" she asks with a smile.

 _You're not the only one who can use humor to mask discomfort._

"Does this mean I get to be the one with the eye rolls and crossed arms now?" Castle answers, calling her on the role reversal. He gets a laugh for his effort, but when she opens her eyes enough to peek she can see that he's happy she looks more relaxed.

"Miss Beckett, please concentrate on your chest," Castle tries again. "There's a pearl on your chest, right atop your scar. You can see it in your mind's eye, right? It's perfect – lustrous, flawless. See how it glows?"

"It's warm," Beckett mumbles.

"That's right," Castle soothes in a calm voice. "It _is_ warm. And bright. It's a star in the sky, twinkling brightly from above. Let's make it the sun. Make it brighter," he coaxes.

"How?" Beckett asks in a low voice.

"You know how," Castle answers with confidence. "You _want_ it to be brighter. You're in control, Kate. What you want to happen, happens. Look at that pearl and make it brighter."

 _This is ridiculous. If it wasn't you coaxing me into this…_

After grimacing for several long minutes, Beckett's close to asking for help when her face breaks out in a radiant smile. "It's so bright, Castle. It's beautiful."

"That's you, Beckett," he answers quietly, a little emotion stealing into his calm voice. "That's how I see you. That's how I've always seen you," he confesses, breaking from the script because he's unable to withhold his confession.

Beckett's still smiling wide, the beauty enhanced by a flush to her cheeks and the tears that leak from her closed eyes.

"Now we're going to turn it down. You can never make it go away – as long as you live, your pearl is with you, safe and warm. Making it dim doesn't make you weak, it just helps you hide. So let's turn it down, Kate. Can you dim the light?"

Her wide smile dims in what might be synchronization with her efforts. After a few moments, her sigh tells him that she's succeeded.

"Remember, we haven't changed anything. It's still there, just hiding. Keep making it dimmer," Castle says, glad that she can't see his grimace with her eyes closed.

 _No!_

Suddenly, Beckett's eyes fly open and her arms reach for him. "It's gone!" she cries in despair.

Catching her hands, he holds them tight for a moment to ground her and then releases them. "It's still there, Kate, I promise. You trust me, remember? I'd never let you lose it."

"But it went out!" she objects. "Like someone just flipped a switch."

"You did," Castle assures her gently. "That's what we were trying to do. Close your eyes – we'll turn it back on. Close your eyes and find your pearl."

"It's gone, Castle," she says in a voice redolent of loss.

"Don't look for it, Kate," he suggests gently. "It's right on your scar, remember? You can still feel it. It's still there. Just make it brighter and you'll see it again."

Panicking for a reason she doesn't quite understand, Beckett tries to follow Castle's advice. After a moment's grasping, she feels nothing. Taking a deep breath, she tries again. After her third failure she can feel her frustration and fear building to inhibit her efforts.

"Hey," Castle says gently. "Open your eyes for a second."

When she does, she's surprised to see that Castle's moved closer. He's standing just in front of her, his wide eyes ready to catch hers. She watches him move in for a gentle kiss, too frozen to reply in kind. "Relax," he says with a smile. "You've got this."

 _Thanks, partner._

Taking a deep breath, Beckett calms herself while she closes her eyes again. Before reaching out, she takes a moment to think about nothing but the quiet of the park and the feel of the water rushing past her. Then, relaxed, she envisions a brightening pearl and nearly weeps when she can see it again.

"So beautiful," Castle whispers.

"It is," Beckett answers, though she knows he's talking about her.

"Okay, slacker," Castle interrupts after letting her bask in the glow for a few minutes. "Time to get to work. Take it from bright to dark and back ten times. And no cheating! I'm can do magic and stuff, I'll know."

Opening her eyes enough to let him see her doubtful look, Beckett gets to work.

"Is that how Calypso taught you?" Beckett asks fifteen minutes later while they're sitting on the riverbank, lounging with their feet still in the water.

"No," Castle says with a laugh. "I was pretty nervous about working with her, so I wasn't big on closing my eyes. We were probably two hours in before I finally relented."

"She wore you down?" Beckett asks with a perched brow.

"Hardly," Castle replies. "She just pointed out that if she was going to attack me, it wouldn't matter if my eyes were open or closed. She meant it to sound flirty, but I interpreted it literally."

 _That's my writer._

"Good," Beckett says with conviction as she reaches out for his hand. "You're braver than we give you credit for, Castle."

Blushing, Castle shrugs. "I finally realized that holding out too long might set her off, that she'd not be especially interested in teaching a reluctant student, regardless of how hot he was. So, I eventually relaxed and let go."

"You said she taught you the wrong way – what was that about?" Beckett asks, ignoring the flare of egotism he threw out there to distract her.

"She said we all have a 'nexus,' a place where we access our power," Castle explains. "I was a smartass and compared it to an electrical outlet, but she said that wasn't a terrible way to think about it since that's where we 'plug into' our abilities."

"Where's your nexus?" Beckett asks curiously, remembering his earlier comment.

"Funny you should ask," he says in reply. "Where do I touch you when I can get away with it, when I'd prefer to run my hands all over you if only we weren't in public and if you wouldn't kill me?" he asks with eyes clouding over as his rampant imagination takes flight.

"My lower back," Beckett guesses after a moment's thought, though she knows she's right.

"You know that feeling you get just before the roller coaster takes a plunge, that tingling in your lower back when your mind lets go and you start thinking about the fact that you're entrusting your life to a contraption that's operated and maintained by a guy named Biff who hasn't had formal education beyond middle school?" Castle rambles.

Beckett moves her hand to the spot he described, running her fingernails in small circles.

"That's the spot," he says a little breathily. "And the tingling feeling."

Castle hums happily as she continues drawing patterns on his lower back. "I lied to Cali about my nexus," he says when he finally breaks the silence. "Something about the way she asked made me think there's a vulnerability associated with the location. That's something we should look into later."

"You think… what? That it's an Achilles heel or something?" Beckett asks, not noticing that she's raised her other hand to cover her scar.

"Maybe. It could be a way to hurt a Gamma or maybe block her," Castle guesses with a shrug. "I just know that I wasn't comfortable telling her where mine was."

"So, how did she teach you to hide?" Beckett asks to get them back on topic.

"She talked about moving the spot. She said that if the outlet wasn't where it was supposed to be, other Gammas couldn't see us," Castle answers. "She said it was like binoculars – others could only see us if the lenses were aligned, so moving the outlet disconnected the appearance and the reality of the outlet's location. Like if I moved my nexus to my chest, you wouldn't be able to see my light."

Beckett uses her hand on his back to give him a nudge so that they can lay on their sides at the edge of the river and face each other. "And you just figured out that she was lying? How did you know?"

"It didn't feel right," he answers, shrugging with the shoulder that's not attached to the arm that's propping up his head. "So I started playing around, trying to figure out a different way."

 _You decided to just experiment after blowing up two boats?_

"You're also more reckless than we give you credit for, Castle," she admonishes with a shake of her head. "But, I'm glad you figured this out and you're okay."

"Are _you_ okay?" he asks as he rubs her arm with his hand. "You're actively doing magic, you know. Hard to deny at this point, right?"

"Magic? I'm just flipping the switch on an imaginary internal night-light," Beckett replies with a casual shrug. Before Castle can interject, she reaches out to rub his arm, too. "I know, Castle. I'm… coming to terms with it. I'll get there. But I've got a question for you," she prompts.

"Fire away," Castle replies as he gently rubs her arm.

"Why couldn't you see me before?" she asks curiously. "Calypso followed my light before we even knew I had any."

"I'm not sure," Castle says with some soft frustration. "Remember, I'm still guessing at most of this. And my best guess here is that I thought it was me. I can still feel my light even when it's off, so I think I just assumed that any light around us came from me. Now that I know what to look for, I can tell where the light's coming from."

"And you really couldn't find my light when it was off?" Beckett asks.

"Not at all," he confirms.

"Great," she answers mischievously, letting her rubbing hand venture south of his arm. "If I know how to hide, we don't need to worry about being anonymous tonight. How would you feel about coming over to my place to celebrate our first lesson?"

"I'm there," Castle says with a voice that's got more gravel than the ground upon which they're reclined. "After dinner with your dad."

 _Oh, crap._

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

 _They just got here and Katie looks like she's anxious._

"Thanks for having us over for dinner, dad," Beckett says as she greets him with a hug. "It's been a while," she teases with a raised brow.

"I know how to cook, Bug. There aren't many occasions that warrant the effort for an old hermit," he says with a shrug as Beckett steps aside so Castle can shake hands with her dad.

"None of that," Jim says as he steps past Castle's outstretched hand and gives him a warm hug instead. Over her father's shoulder, Castle casts Beckett a look of surprise. Beckett's anxiety, which has been steadily ramping up in anticipation of this meeting, skyrockets.

"Dad"? Beckett asks in a small voice. "I can't take it. We'll still eat dinner, but later. What did Dr. Chu say?"

 _You've always been so impatient_.

"Can we at least sit down?" Jim teases as he raises an arm to usher them toward the sofa.

Beckett perches on the edge of the couch, looking tense. Castle sits next to her, careful to leave a father-appropriate distance between them. Jim's stifling a smile even before Beckett's hand shoots out. Without looking away from her father, Beckett grabs Castle and hauls him across the couch so that he's pressed up against her side. Letting her hand slide down, she grabs Castle's hand and holds it tight in both of hers as she continues to stare at her father.

 _It's so tempting to draw this out._

"Rick, I need to apologize," Jim says as he perches on the cushion of his armchair. "Your friend Simon isn't happy with you."

"What happened?" Castle asks in confusion while Beckett looks on.

"He's wondering why he had to miss a cub scout meeting, a soccer practice, and date night," Jim ticks off on his fingers, "only to sneak around a hospital at night to run illicit tests on a man with a perfectly healthy liver," Jim says with a smile. Beckett's lifted both of her hands in front of her mouth as if preparing to contain a sob, but she's still holding tight to Castle's hand, so his arm is wrenched at an awkward angle that he happily ignores. "I think he was laying it on a little thick, though. You can't schedule a date night when there's soccer practice and a cub scout meeting. Honestly."

"I'll make it up to him," Castle says with a watery laugh that seems to finally jar Beckett into motion. She releases Castle's hand and quickly steps around the coffee table, giving her father just enough time to stand before she nearly knocks him back into his chair with a sobbing hug.

"You're sure?" Beckett manages to say while making an effort to control her breathing.

"Yes, Katie," Jim answers indulgently. "Dr. Chu wasn't really annoyed and he wanted to be certain. There are still a few blood tests that need to come in, but everything looks great."

"When you say everything…," Castle starts to ask before trailing off, uncertain about the appropriateness of his participation in the conversation.

 _I think you've earned a spot at this table, son._

"I mean _everything_ ," Jim confirms. "I have other scars from my addiction, but my liver isn't one of them. Well, actually," he contradicts himself, "there was one problem – malnourishment. My body chemicals were odd, but it's nothing that careful eating and supplements won't fix."

"Sorry about that," Castle apologizes. "I thought it'd drain me, but I guess it gave you a workout, too. Did Simon check your heart? We might've given you quite a workout."

"Please don't apologize," Jim says earnestly. "He said it was fine, exactly what he'd expect for someone my age," Jim reassures Castle.

"Okay," Castle says with a sigh. "Try not to do this again, okay? We don't want to hurt you by helping you."

"Relax, Rick. I'm _cancer-free!_ Do you know good it feels to say that?" Jim asks.

"Only vicariously," Castle offers over the sound of another Beckett sob of happiness.

 _This feels wonderful. But I've known for hours. You two need a moment without an old man underfoot._

"Katie," Jim whispers in his daughter's ear. "Rick looks like he needs a hug. Could you cheer him up while I set out dinner?"

With a laughing gasp and a nod, Beckett steps away from her father, who nods to Castle. The younger man is still standing up when Beckett pushes him back on the sofa and crawls into his lap as her tears fall again.

Nearly ten minutes later, Beckett and Castle make their entrance to the kitchen, holding hands.

 _I don't think I've ever seen her do that before_.

"It smells wonderful, dad," Beckett beams, eyes still a little teary but radiating joy nonetheless. As Castle seats his partner, Jim brings the lasagna to the table, where the salad and garlic bread await. "Family recipe," Jim mugs it up.

He's returned to the counter to retrieve their drinks when he hears Castle's quiet comment to his daughter. "Uh oh, Beckett, garlic bread."

 _This'll be good. It's been a while since I've seen Katie squirm._

"Oh, Katie," Jim says with false naïvete, "why didn't you tell me Rick's allergic to garlic?"

"What?" Beckett asks, caught in the spotlight after glaring at her partner. "He's not allergic, it's just that he… um…"

"It's a joke," Castle jumps in to save Beckett from embarrassment and himself from future pain. "We had some kids in the precinct the other day who thought I was a vampire. So I've got to watch out for garlic, crucifixes, and sunlight."

"Ah," Jim replies with a look that suggests he doesn't entirely buy the explanation. "Here you go," he says as he sets Castle's ice tea on the table. "I promise it wasn't made with holy water."

"Cheers!" Castle replies before he sips gingerly as if testing the veracity of Jim's promise. Beckett, alternatively, lifts her glass to her face to cool her flaming cheeks.

 _I can see why Rick teases her. This is kind of fun._

"So," Jim says as he digs into the lasagna, "what did you do to me, Rick?" Failing to miss the silent conversation between his daughter and her partner, he waits for them to reach some resolution.

"Really?" Beckett asks while looking at Castle. "Okay," she relents, "I'm okay with it if you are."

"This is all very mysterious," Jim says with a laugh. "Do I need to sign anything, make any solemn vows or promises?"

"Tell you what, Jim," Castle says, looking mischievous. "I might come to you with a request sometime in the near future. Promise to consider an affirmative answer and we're good. Ow!" Castle finishes, bending over to massage his shin and remove the dent that Beckett's boot just left.

 _Oh, Katie, this boy's got it bad. And you've got your hands full._

"Quit whining," Beckett scoffs. "You can heal yourself, you big baby."

"Yeah, but that's not carte blanche for assault," Castle whines. Turning to address her father before Beckett can interject again, Castle provides an explanation. "The short answer to your question, Jim, is that there are some people who have extra abilities. I'm still trying to figure out how this all works, and it's as much of a curse as a blessing, but it's got some advantages."

"Really," Jim says flatly. "'Extra abilities.' Right."

"I see where Beckett gets her credulous streak," Castle answers with an eye roll. Holding his hand out over his plate with palm up, Castle focuses on his hand until his dinner companions do the same. Jim gasps as a small ball of fire appears above Castle's palm, hovering in place.

"You're getting really good at that," Beckett praises, surprising Jim further. Before he can react, the sphere divides like a cell, splitting into four pieces that reform into smaller balls. Two of these circle each other like twin suns over his palm, while the other two orbit Castle's hand in opposite directions.

 _Katie's said you can play the clown, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you can juggle._

"Show-off," Beckett chuffs, lightly cuffing Castle's shoulder. Jim gasps as her smack causes Castle to lose his concentration and the balls careen away in different directions. Just as they're about to hit the table, though, the balls wink out. If not for the bright afterimages they leave behind, Jim might doubt that they were there in the first place.

"My instructor called us Gammas. We can do things, but our gifts are dangerous and can be stolen by others. So it's _imperative_ that no one knows about this," Castle says quietly but intensely. "You're the happy recipient of a wonderful miracle. I've got a friend who will make your previous medical records disappear. But for Kate's safety and my own, we need to keep this quiet."

"You're a danger to her?" Jim asks, wondering if his blessing is really a curse.

Rather than answer, though, Castle looks at Beckett. With a sigh, she holds her palm out just as Castle did.

"Don't worry, I'll catch anything that gets away from you," he promises.

 _He can't mean…_

Beckett's look of concentration includes a tongue poking out of her mouth just as it did when she was working on problem sets at this very kitchen table as a high-school freshman. With a sputtering flicker that winks in and out several times, she finally manages to maintain a tiny, sputtering flame over the palm of her hand.

"Did you help?" she asks Castle, though her eyes don't leave the flame.

"That was all you, partner," Castle replies, sounding immensely proud.

With a happy sigh, Beckett straightens up and lets the flame wink out. Blushing slightly, she looks at her father. "Castle's not a danger to me, dad. He's my partner."

"You… you can do this? How long?" Jim asks, flummoxed.

"Honestly? We just figured it out today," Beckett says with a huff, catching Castle's smile as he takes another bite of dinner. "We came here from my first lesson. But I'm not a natural Gamma. Castle… did something when I was shot. Something that transferred some of his abilities to me," she says as Jim looks to Castle and sees him shrug, "we don't know the details but we know it helped keep me alive."

"Thank God for that," Jim says fervently, though he's still confused by this whole situation. "But, how do you know you're not…" Jim trails off, uncomfortable at trying to frame the question.

Her look to Castle cedes the question to him. "The abilities are inherited, but imperfectly. So, it might be possible that an ancestor was a Gamma. But we're pretty sure that's not the case," Castle trails off, waiting for Beckett's nod to proceed.

"We don't know what we are until we're freed by an experience of great stress or emotional upheaval," Castle explains. "If Kate were a natural Gamma, she would've figured it out when she was 19."

 _And if not then, watching me spiral afterwards certainly would have provided 'an experience of great stress.'_

"So we both owe you our lives," Jim summarizes, trying to look at the positives rather than on the loss of his wife. "God bless the day Katie arrested you."

"I think that every day," Castle agrees with a nod, prompting Beckett to tear up again. Then, shocking both men, she reaches across the table to grasp Castle's hand. Beckett herself is shocked when her father adds his hand atop theirs.

Thirty minutes later, Castle and Beckett are at the door, preparing to make their departure. The mood is decidedly more upbeat, thanks to a shift in conversation away from health and Gamma abilities and toward family stories. The decadent dessert didn't hurt, either.

"Oh, hold on," Jim says as the partners stand at the door, "I almost forgot."

Castle gives Beckett a curious look after Jim ducks out of the room, but she just shrugs in response.

"A parting gift," Jim says as he reenters the room. Beckett's too distracted by her father's look of mischief to stop the transfer as he hands Castle a book. "Her senior yearbook. That should provide the fodder for some interesting questions."

 _Such a traitor._

"Dad!" Beckett objects, trying in vain to grab the book from Castle. Knowing full well the potential treasure he holds, there's no way Castle's going to let go.

"I owe him," Jim says with a shrug. "One more parting gift," Jim says with a smile. Slowly he extends his hand just as the two of them did at dinner. For a brief moment, both Beckett and Castle stare at the hand and wonder if Jim's going to create his own ball of light or flickering flame. Rather than reveal himself as a Gamma, though, Jim uncurls his fingers to reveal a box of breath mints. "You know, for the garlic bread."

 _That_ is _fun!_ he thinks as he watches the blushing couple depart.

* * *

A/N2: Sorry if it caused any confusion above, but I think that Beckett would sometimes think of herself as 'Beckett' (sometimes in her own voice, and sometime in Castle's).

Now time for something a bit more serious. There's been a disturbing trend on the site lately, where some fantastic authors have been bombarded by nasty, anonymous "reviews" that spew vitriol and negativity. That isn't what this site should be about. One of the reasons I finally tried to write is that this was such a great community, so welcoming and encouraging. It would be a real shame if authors refrained from pursuing stories, or gave up their writing hobbies altogether, due to the negativity from a small minority of nameless reviewers.

For those of you, named or anonymous, who provide constructive reviews, thank you so much. Your comments help improve the stories and provide motivation for more stories and creativity. It is very much appreciated.

For authors, I'm casting my lot with others who are opting to delete anonymous troll reviews. If we all simply delete them, their bile won't there to be read along with and detract from helpful reviews.

For those tempted to leave anonymous troll reviews, I'm confused. I understand that there is some frustration with this season. I'm not a fan of the current story arc. But why vent on fanfic writers? This just leads to fewer options and alternatives. And it's not just an issue related to one chapter or one story – authors who grow frustrated with the negativity sometimes stop altogether. Why would we want this?

For those who read and don't review, I'd encourage you to drop just one review on any story that you've read. As an author, those reviews really help motivate more writing. There are so many great writers out there, just one note would go a long way. Thanks!


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Lanie Parish**

"Hey, Lanie," Beckett calls out as she enters the autopsy bay, startling the ME and earning a growl to start the day.

"Don't _do_ that!" Lanie scolds her friend, though her scowl fades as she sees that Beckett brought her a cup of coffee.

 _Interesting. She's got a cup, too. She usually waits for Castle's delivery to arrive._

"Sorry, Lanie," Beckett says with a smile. "I would've thought you wouldn't scare easily after all these years."

"Don't _even_ say it like that," Lanie sasses as she reaches for the cup of coffee Beckett's extending to her. "You make us sound like old spinsters, whiling away the years." After taking a welcome sip of her drink, Lanie props a brow and addresses her friend. "So, are you here to see the body your leaderless team is working on or did you come to explain why you're suddenly so 'sick?'" she asks, using air-quotes to emphasize the last word.

"Actually, Lanie," Beckett says while blushing slightly, "how would you feel about a quick walk before we talk about the case?"

 _Shut the front door._

"Based on that blush, I think I _definitely_ want to take a walk," Lanie practically cackles. "Go call the elevator, I'll just leave a quick note so Perlmutter can't complain as much if he comes looking for me."

With other passengers in the elevator and colleagues approaching the building, it's not until they're walking down the avenue a block from OCME before even Lanie feels comfortable broaching personal topics.

"So, Lanie, I wanted to tell you…," Beckett starts to say with her eyes locked firmly on the horizon.

"Is it Castle? It is, isn't it?" Lanie asks impatiently. "It better be Castle. It is, right?"

Blushing furiously, Beckett tries to chastise her friend but just can't manage it. "Of course it is," she says softly.

 _Oh, Kate, I haven't seen you smile like that in… ever._

"Yes!" Lanie says with an exuberant first-pump that turns into a jog around Beckett with both arms raised. "I so saw this coming, girl. It's about damned time!"

"Yeah, it is," Beckett agrees happily, warmed by her friend's antics. "Past time, to be honest."

"No kidding," Lanie replies with an eye roll. "Now, the first important question: was it worth the wait?"

 _That's a very deep shade of red, girl. Someone had fun yesterday!_

"It was…," Beckett starts before she shakes her head and clears her throat. "It was the most intense sexual experience of my life," she admits quietly. "I don't know if I'm a fool for waiting this long or a genius for letting the passion build to this ridiculous level."

Both eyebrows perched as high as her forehead will allow, Lanie looks shocked at her friend's confession. "Are you serious? You aren't exactly inexperienced, but is he really…,"

"I passed out," Beckett interjects before looking shocked and covering her mouth with her free hand, afraid that other involuntary confessions might escape. "Just for a little bit," she clarifies in an attempt to reclaim a little dignity.

"So," Lanie asks quickly, anxious to satisfy her curiosity, "all those rumors about him…"

"Don't come close to doing him justice, no," Beckett says, laughing at Lanie's look of shocked incredulity.

 _Damnnnnnnnn._

"I guess congratulations are in order," Lanie says with a smile, "as long as you've got the right answer for the second important question: did you tell anybody before me?" she ends with an obvious challenge.

"Dad knows," Beckett answers. "We didn't tell him, but we've spent enough time with him lately for him to see us together. But you had to be the first one to hear about us. I'll tell the boys, but maybe not right away. We need a little time to get used to us," she shrugs, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, honey," Lanie says tearfully as she wraps Beckett in a fierce hug. "I'm so happy for you. And so jealous! Someday very soon, Kate Beckett, you're getting drunk and I'm getting details."

Laughing tearfully, Beckett's happy to return the hug. "You can try," she says with a laugh. "Thanks, Lanie. Your support means a lot to us."

"To _us_?" Lanie teases. "Are you already thinking as a couple?"

"No," Beckett answers with an annoyed swat to her friend's shoulder. "It's just that Rick's happy for you to know about us, too. He said that you've been his cheerleader for a long time."

"Damn right," Lanie says with an emphatic nod. "So where is the big goof? I expect a hug from him, too."

"Careful there," Beckett says with a territorial look. "He's spoken for," she says with a stern look before dissolving into laughter.

 _Castle, I could just kiss you for making her so happy. I can't remember the last time I heard her laugh like this._

"He's back at the precinct," Beckett offers once she's settled down. "He thought we might like some time without him underfoot."

"That boy of yours might be smarter than he looks," Lanie admits. "You know, Kate, I'm not even going to ask if you're happy. I just wanna say that it's so great to see you like this."

"Thanks, Lanie," Beckett says quietly before giving her friend another hug.

 _Look who's all mushy now! I can't wait to tease you about this later. 'Just for a little bit' – hah!_

"Come on, girl, let's get you back," Lanie says, pointing them back toward the OCME. "Otherwise you'll try to bail on lunch with me. You've still got a job to do and I've got to tell you, you've got a weird one on your hands. And _yes_ ," she adds quickly, recognizing her friend's look, "I was talking about your case, not your boyfriend."

* * *

 **Beckett**

"What'd you do to Castle?" Ryan asks Esposito as they sit at their desks, poring over maps of CCTV coverage around the area where their current homicide victim was found.

 _Just about the most delicious things I could think of_ , Beckett smirks as she answers the question in her head. _Though I've come up with several more interesting ideas…_

"What? Nothing, bro," Esposito replies. "I haven't seen him today other than lunch. Why? What'd he say?"

"I popped my head into the workroom to see if he wanted a coffee and he was just… weird, I guess. Subdued," Ryan stumbles. "I'm not sure what he's looking at, but he's got paper all over the place. He said it was for this case," Ryan says, sounding doubtful, "and that he's got a theory he wants to run by Beckett."

"That _is_ weird. He's usually happy to annoy all of us with his stupid theories." Esposito agrees, looking a little disturbed before he snaps his fingers as his expression clears. "Nah, it's a scam. He's probably just looking to get some private time to put the moves on Beckett," Esposito decides. Ryan looks relieved at this plausible explanation. Beckett just rolls her eyes.

"I guess I'll take one for the team," she sighs dramatically while thinking _Damn right!_ , "and see whether the CIA, a trained yeti, or the spirit of her long-dead lover killed our vic." The team's been slightly disappointed that Castle hasn't been more excited about this case – a young woman found alone in a room locked from the inside, suffocated but without any sign of struggle, no drugs in her system, and no history to suggest enemies or contact with unsavory characters. Castle didn't even mumble "Avada Kedavra."

Knocking on the doorframe to the workroom, Beckett tries a few times to catch Castle's attention.

 _He must be really distracted if he couldn't feel my approach through the connection, much less hear the knocking._

Not waiting for a response, Beckett steps into the workroom and closes the door behind her.

 _Let's go for shock value._

"Hey, babe, what've you got?" she asks slyly.

"A new nickname, apparently," he answers as he finally looks up from the table, wearing a Cheshire grin. "One that I like very, very much." She doesn't even flinch when she feels his phantom kiss to her cheek, but she does return his smile.

"The boys are wondering about your uncharacteristic behavior," Beckett notes, trying to read some of the papers on the table. "I've got to confess, I expected you to stray towards hovering today, not abandoning me."

"Sorry, beautiful," Castle apologizes. "I might be erring too far on the side of removing myself from temptation. We're something that I've wanted for so long that I need to be careful not to slip up in front of, you know, a _roomful_ of detectives."

 _I'll never understand how I missed how sweet you can be._

"But that's not the only reason, is it?" Beckett pushes, intrigued by the mess around Castle. "You think you've found something, don't you?"

"So you're a profiler now?" Castle asks playfully.

"Oh, Castle, I've had your number for ages," she replies with a smile. "Now quit trying to distract me and tell me your theory."

"Spoilsport," Castle chuffs, though he's happy when she pulls up a chair to the table. "You want the long or short version?"

"Split the difference," Beckett decides. "I don't want to be here all day – I've got things planned for later," she says with a wicked look, "but don't just hit me with your theory. Build into it."

Nodding, Castle decides that he likes this approach. "Investigational foreplay? Sounds good to me," he says with a wicked look of his own. "Why can't we use our abilities here, or too often?"

"Exposure," Beckett answers immediately. "If Espo throws something at you and it freezes in mid-air, that's a bit of a tell. And if a suspect is suddenly frozen in place, he's not likely to stay quiet about it. And once word got out, we'd live under constant threat of attack."

"Exactly," Castle agrees. "We can do things on the margin – like causing a fleeing suspect to trip or maybe even diverting shots fired – but too many remarkable occurrences will attract attention."

 _Oh, Castle, trust me, I've worried about this, too._

"Like having too many friends or relatives who enjoy miraculous recoveries from terminal conditions, or who never seem to get sick?" Beckett asks sadly.

"Yeah," Castle answers unhappily. "We'll have to find a way to balance that out. I don't want to give us away, but I can't imagine just sitting there if someone we love is suffering."

"Let's not borrow trouble," Beckett rallies, trying to cheer them up. "You were telling me your theory."

"Right," Castle says in a more chipper tone of voice, casting Beckett a thankful look. "Espo told you that today's vic isn't the only one who's died this way, right?"

"She's the third with this kind of MO in the city in the past two years," Beckett agrees, "and we're still waiting to see if similar unsolved cases come in from other jurisdictions."

"They will," Castle says confidently. "Because this is a serial killer."

"What?" Beckett asks, wondering about Castle's lead-in.

"Look at today's vic – her family is wealthy, right? But it's not inherited. There's some mystery about where the patriarch earned his money," Castle says, pointing to a stack of papers on the edge of the table. "But the bigger mystery is what happened to him – he just disappeared one day, never to be seen again. They thought he might have run away from his wife or the IRS, but they've never found him and he's never accessed his wealth or contacted his family. They investigated his wife for a while, but she was cleared."

"What does that have to do with our vic?" Beckett asks.

"You remember Cali's threat?" Castle replies, pulling her back into the discussion about exposure.

 _Trust me, I'm not forgetting that scene anytime soon._

"That she was going to have you kill me as proof of your interest in ruling the world with her?" Beckett huffs. "Kind of hard to forget. Thanks for not taking her up on it."

"I was barely even tempted," Castle says glibly, earning a gruff laugh. "Besides…," he starts before thinking better of it. "Well, we'll talk about that some other time. Anyway, I was thinking about her comment about Alexis."

 _Hold on. You're not big on self-editing. We're going to return to this topic soon._

"That she'd go after Alexis, just in case?" Beckett says. "Oh. I see where you're going with this. You think the dad was a Gamma, that someone killed him and he…," Beckett pauses, and instead of talking makes an exploding gesture, "like Calypso?"

"Maybe," Castle answers. "There's more on the dad that suggests he was a Gamma, but just assume he was for now. Two of the victims," Castle says as he sweeps his arm across the table, "were the offspring of people who experienced unusual success before they disappeared. The third was the son of a man who managed to live well into his sixties with cystic fibrosis before he mysteriously disappeared."

"That's a surprisingly long life for someone with CF, isn't it?" Beckett interjects.

"Yeah," Castle agrees. "It's not statistically impossible. The median life expectancy for CF," he says while pointing to his laptop where he's apparently been looking into it, "is approaching 50 years. But he was apparently remarkably spry up until he went missing, with no evidence of his disease or a transplant."

"So the parents might've been Gammas, but why kill the kids – on the off chance they've inherited the genes? Would a Gamma get anything from someone who hadn't been freed yet?" Beckett asks in confusion. "If that worked, why not take the whole family at once? These kids died a year or two after their parents disappeared. And besides," she adds almost as an afterthought, "there were bodies there, so the kids weren't even Gammas. If they were, they would've gone poof."

"Please explain to me the scientific foundation of ' _going poof_ ,'" Castle chuckles before sobering to address the rest of her questions. "I don't know," Castle answers honestly. "But the killer isn't likely to be whoever took care of the parent, unless…"

"Killing the parent frees the child," they say in unison before locking eyes.

"It makes sense, in a sick way," Beckett nods. "Our killer would get the parent's power, then could circle back later to see if there's anything to reap among the children. And whoever it is isn't terribly discriminating – he or she is killing the kids on the off chance that they're Gammas. The victims we've found weren't, but maybe others were. We need to look for missing siblings and cousins."

Turning toward the internal window to watch Esposito and Ryan, she wonders about next steps. "How in the hell are we going to follow this lead without tipping our hand? The boys give me a lot of leeway, but they're not stupid. They'll start to wonder when we roll this back to the parents. Maybe we could suggest that we're looking into some kind of inheritance scam?"

"Castle?" she asks, surprised by his uncharacteristic silence. Beckett spins around again to see him staring at the tabletop and looking pale. She wants to reach out and touch him, bring him back from wherever he's gone, but they're in a fishbowl here in the workroom, on display for whoever walks by.

 _Okay, I can do this. Just a gentle phantom caress of his cheek…_

With a loud crack, Castle's head spins to the side. "Ow! What the hell?" Castle asks as he looks at Beckett, more bewildered than hurt.

"Oh, Castle, I'm sorry!" she gasps, horrified. "I was trying to caress your cheek but I guess I don't know how to do that yet."

Castle's about to reply when Esposito opens the door and enters while talking. "Hey, Castle, do you have that report on… Whoa! Nice handprint there," he says as he points at Castle's cheek.

To her absolute mortification, Beckett sees that Esposito's right – a bright red, hand-shaped welt is rising on Castle's cheek.

 _Oh, this is just what we need. The boys already think something's wrong with Castle and now I belt him? Who knows what story they'll come up with to explain this?_

"Ha! I knew he was going to hit on you," Esposito cackles. "I didn't figure you'd need to hit him back, though. So," he says while looking at Beckett, "what'd he try to do?" he asks, suddenly sounding gruff. "Do we need to have a talk?" he asks while massaging his knuckles.

"Shut up, Espo," Beckett reacts quickly, trying to cut this off before it grows out of control. "It was an accident. I was about to beg Castle's forgiveness and get him some ice before you barged in. I'm sorry Castle. I'll understand if you want to talk to Gates about this."

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Beckett, it was just an accident," Castle plays along. Happy that he seems to understand that invoking Gates' name and the possibility of a formal reprimand will shut down or distract Esposito, she shoots Castle a quick smile. "And I don't need ice," Castle says as he sits up in the chair. "I'm too manly for ice."

 _That's a perfect way to throw Espo off the scent. You're so good at deflection – I think I might need to pay closer attention._

"Pffft," Esposito grunts at Castle's comment, shaking his head. "Whatever. I need the autopsy report on the second vic. Then I'll go back to my desk and Beckett can have some more 'accidents.' Just let me know if you want some help," he says to Beckett after collecting the papers from Castle. Esposito leaves, but neither Beckett nor Castle thinks that his failure to close the door behind him was inadvertent.

"I wish I could figure out Cali's voice trick," Castle says quietly. "Then we could have a real conversation but the boys would hear something else."

"We'll be fine," Beckett dismisses. "I'm so sorry about that Castle. You looked forlorn and I was trying to cheer you up. What was bothering you?"

"My theory," he answers. "Well, really, what my theory means for Alexis. I need to talk to her."

 _Didn't I say I was going for shock value? It's past time to commit to this. Get ready, Rick, here I come._

"She still due back tomorrow?" Beckett asks. "May I join you?" she asks after seeing his nod.

Surprised, Castle looks up to catch her eye. "You sure you want to be around for that?"

"I know she's not my biggest fan," Beckett says with a wince, "and with good reason. But I can't hide from her. If this is going to work, I'll be around a lot. The sooner we can get comfortable with each other, the happier we'll all be." After noting Castle's dubious look, she pulls out her ace. "Castle, I worked something out with _Jonas_ of all people. Alexis might be upset with me, but come on – she's a smart, mature woman. We can work something out."

"You have no idea how much I hope you're right," Castle sighs, looking both hopeful and grateful.

"Yes, Rick, I do," Beckett contradicts. "I know better than anyone outside your family how much your girl means to you, how important she is in your life. We'll find a way to make this work."

Feeling a gentle caress on her cheek, Beckett laughs. "So that's how you do it," she says as she puts her own hand on her cheek as she could if she could hold his in place. "Now, come back to the bullpen. You can bring your papers and keep working, but I'm worried that Espo still thinks something very wrong happened in here. Come stay with me so he sees things are back to normal. Think you can control yourself if you're sitting next to me?"

"I've managed it for _years_ ," Castle says confidently. "A few hours won't be a problem. Probably."

At first, it seems as if Castle's prediction is true. The team works quietly, searching for leads on their case. Castle, meanwhile, looks for support for his theory, expanding the scope to include families where parents and children have disappeared. The boys cast him curious glances, wondering where today's quips might be hiding, but refrain from interrupting him.

"Be right back," Castle says sometime later, after setting his stack of papers beneath his chair and popping his neck and back with a wide stretch. Figuring that he'll bring her a coffee on his return from the washroom, Beckett returns to her review of the victim's cell phone records. It's hard to concentrate on this avenue of research, she realizes, since she suspects it'll be moot if Castle's theory proves accurate.

She's proud when it's her detective's instincts, and not some mystical connection, that pulls her from her work a few minutes later. The boys have both drifted away and neither of them is in the kitchen or even within sight. With a grimace, she realizes what must be going on.

 _Those sweet, dumb jackasses. As if I'd need their help._

LT is about to enter the washroom when Beckett puts a hand on his shoulder from behind. "Will you do me a favor?" she asks earnestly. "My team's working through something right now. Will you give me a few minutes and keep anyone else out?"

With a curious look at the door, LT shrugs. "Sure, Beckett. But if you hurt 'em too bad, I was never here."

With a laugh and a thanks, Beckett pushes into the men's room while LT pivots into a guard position in front of the door.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Beckett asks as she barges in, happy to see that there's no one other than her team in the room. Castle's backed up against the far wall with Esposito and Ryan leaning in and trying to look menacing. Having faced far worse than this in the last day, Castle looks like he's barely trying to pretend he's scared.

"Beckett, get out of here," Esposito replies. "We're just working something out. We'll be back in five minutes."

"Back off, Espo," she says fiercely enough to get both boys to look at her rather than Castle.

 _What the hell. Might as well end any doubts once and for all._

"Look, boys, you need to get three things through your thick skulls," she rails. With her temper rising, both Ryan and Esposito recognize her as the greater threat and turn to fully face her, leaving Castle behind them. With their attention on her, the boys fail to see Castle's gleeful smile. Rubbing his hands together, Castle leans his back and the bottom of one foot against the wall, making himself comfortable in anticipation of the show.

"First," she says as she raises a hand with one finger, before closing it into a fist held in front of her, "what makes either of you think that I'm incapable of fighting my own battles? Have I _ever_ given you the impression that I need your help or that I'd appreciate you butting your noses into my personal, professional, or familial relationships?"

"No, but…," Esposito starts to interject before Beckett gives him a scorching glare that might kill a lesser man. _I'd better be careful. Wouldn't want to accidentally put the whammy on Espo._

"Second," she growls, cutting him off, "you're both damn fools if you think you can threaten Castle, especially where I'm involved." _It's true, but they don't know why. Better give them something plausible._ "Didn't you see him try to jump in front of me at Roy's funeral? Haven't you watched him for the past three years? If he thinks he's doing right by me, nothing's going to stop him. Certainly not you two."

"Beckett, that's not…," Ryan starts to talk before she shifts the glare his way.

"Third," she interjects again before pausing to look at each of them, including Castle. "Third," she says again in a lower voice, mindful of LT outside the door, "if _anyone_ is going to threaten, chastise, reprimand, or _discipline_ my boyfriend, it'll be _me._ "

Aside from the gentle plinking of a leaky faucet, Beckett's last statement has rendered the entire room silent.

 _The looks on their faces are priceless. Lanie's going to enjoy hearing about this._

The boys both seem to be locked in place, uncertain if Beckett is messing with them and fearful about setting off her temper again. _Evidence_ , she thinks to herself. _It's always about the evidence._

With a quirked brow to make sure he's okay with this (as if his beaming smile left any doubt), Beckett strides between the boys. Castle's just kicked himself forward when Beckett grasps his cheeks with both hands and lays a kiss on him that drives him back into the wall.

Just to twist the knife ( _And not at all for personal gratification, of course not_ ), Beckett prolongs the kiss until she can hear the boys fidgeting in discomfort. Finally separating from Castle with an audible pop, she spins in his embrace to address the boys. "Any questions?"

"Uh, how long…," Esposito starts to ask before an ominous look from Beckett closes his mouth.

"Not long enough to put off Gates if she gets wind of this," Beckett answers in a more gentle tone. "So, we're keeping it under wraps. Will you do that?"

The boys look torn, which surprises her. It's not like either of them is a snitch ( _Well, Ryan might snitch for Castle_ ), and neither of them is particularly fond of Gates.

"Guys," Castle catches their attention, speaking for the first time since Beckett commandeered the men's room, "I'm good for it. Treat the pools as if you don't know and I'll make it up to you when we can go public."

 _They were worried about a stupid bet? What am I thinking – of course they were._

Ryan's about to agree when Esposito lifts a hand to pre-empt him. "What about…," Esposito starts to ask before Castle cuts him off.

"Yes, you can talk to Lanie and Jenny about this, but no one else," he says while Beckett nods. "Yes, you get free drinks at the Haunt, not that you've ever had to pay. No, you don't get the car. Basketball tickets… we'll have to see. Good?"

"Good," the boys reply, pouting a bit about the car.

"Great," Beckett says with a roll of her eyes. "Are we done bartering? Can we get back to work now?"

"That was…," Castle starts to say as they all head toward the door.

"Hot," he and Beckett say at the same time, while both Ryan and Esposito opt for "Gross."

LT's still in position as they file out, reacting only with a smile to Esposito's murmured "Traitor" comment as he walks by.

 _A little payback isn't too petty, is it?_

"Why 'gross?'" Beckett asks curiously as they move to settle back in at their desks. The boys shoot each other a wary look, shocked that Beckett wants to continue the conversation and nervous about the potential ramifications of an answer.

Without discussing it in advance, Ryan and Esposito whip out their hands for a quick round of Rock-Paper-Scissors that leaves Ryan sighing in resignation after his prompt loss.

"It's like thinking about your parents," he mutters, oddly unwilling to make eye contact with Castle or Beckett. "It's just… gross."

"That's ridiculous," Beckett answers flatly. "Obviously your parents enjoyed themselves. I mean, you're Catholic, right Kevin? And how many siblings do you have? Your folks probably went at it like rabbits, right?"

Castle notices Beckett's efforts to keep a straight face, but Ryan's looking too nauseated to see it. Falling into his chair, he desperately grabs at the papers in an effort to refocus. When Beckett clears her throat to ask another question, he jams his fingers into his ears and starts humming, looking resolutely at the papers on his desk. His strategy works a little too well – he can't hear Beckett, but he can't hear Esposito's warning, either.

But nothing stops the rest of the team from hearing Captain Gates' resigned sigh as she walks up behind Ryan and drops two earplugs onto his desk before walking back to her office, wondering idly how in the world her best homicide team manages to catch anyone.

* * *

A/N2: In opting to push this story to the longer ending, I need to get the pieces reset and ready for the second act. There will be some lighter sections during this transition, including much of the one above. Sorry about that, but file it under guilty pleasure.

Thanks for the kind words about polite reviews. The discussion's been interesting and considerate, which is fantastic.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Castle**

"Thanks for dinner, Dad," Alexis says contentedly. "It's so good to be home again."

 _I missed you, Pumpkin. I don't know how I'm going to deal with college next year._

"I thought you enjoyed yourself in LA?" Castle asks as he stands to clear the table. "You said you had a good time!"

"I did, Dad," Alexis soothes immediately. "We went shopping, toured some movie sets. It was fun, but exhausting. You know how mom is," she says while making odd hand motions suggesting frenetic activity.

"I know," Castle agrees. "But it was still good to see her, right?"

"Yeah, it was," Alexis confirms in a low voice.

 _Oh, my girl. It's okay to love her, even if she disappoints you sometimes._

"It's okay, you know," Castle says gently to Alexis. "We can love people even if we don't always like them. Meredith's got her own way about her, but she loves you. It's okay for you to love her, too."

"I know," Alexis replies shyly while walking over to her dad for a hug. "But it's okay to be glad that I'm back home, too."

"Amen," Castle agrees while wrapping her tight. "It always will be."

"So," Alexis says with a sniff and some resignation, "when does she get here?"

 _What?! No, no, no, no, no._

"Meredith?!" Castle squeaks in a panic. "She's not coming here tonight. Is she?"

"Not mom," Alexis answers in exasperation. "Unless you've taken to wearing perfume," she says with another sniff while enfolded in her father's hug, "I'd guess you've been spending time with Detective Beckett. And you've set aside an extra plate, and you keep glancing toward the door…"

"Maybe I can at least continue to fool Mother," Castle says in some exasperation. "Yes, Beckett's coming over. There's something we need to talk to you about."

"You're dating. There, talk done," Alexis says tersely as she steps out of the hug, leaving Castle feeling bereft.

 _That's not exactly a great start._

"It's not just that, Pumpkin," Castle says softly. Something in his tone catches her attention.

"Dad, are you okay?" she asks fearfully. "This isn't about what you've been discussing with your doctor, is it?"

Gentle rapping on the door has them both turning, putting their discussion on hold. "Why don't you have a seat on the couch? Beckett and I'll meet you there?"

With a concerned look, Alexis nods and drifts off in that direction. Castle moves toward the door and actually takes the time to check the peephole before opening the door to a smiling Beckett.

"Hey, babe," she greets quietly as she steps into him, humming as soon as his arms close around her. "Everything okay?" she whispers.

"We'll get there," Castle says resolutely, a clear signal to his partner that things haven't started well. "Everything okay with the case?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Beckett demurs. Giving him a quick kiss, she steps back to let Castle help her with her coat. Then, grabbing his hand, Beckett leads him to the lounge area where his daughter awaits.

"This is new," Alexis says as she nods to their linked hands. "Hello, Detective."

 _Not even a last name. We're moving backwards._

"Hi, Alexis," Beckett replies kindly. "Welcome back."

Acknowledging Beckett's welcome with a nod, Alexis leans back into the cushions of the couch while Beckett and Castle sit down, still holding hands.

"Which would you prefer, Pumpkin?" Castle asks after a moment. "Do you want to start with a wordy explanation or a demonstration?"

"I really, really hope you're talking about your other news, not your relationship status with the Detective," Alexis says with a shudder. "If so, I know well enough to stay away from something that even you describe as 'wordy.'"

Beckett laughs at Alexis' last comment largely as a way to get over her discomfort from the first one. She tries to stifle her mirth with her free hand while schooling her features to respond innocently to Castle's mock glare. "Okay," he says, shifting his attention back to Alexis. "Demonstration it is."

Alexis still looks a little annoyed, both by Beckett's presence and by her father's bothersome theatrics. Her look changes quickly, though, as she starts to lift up from the couch.

"Dad?" she asks with a tremor in her voice, now floating a foot above the couch and still moving upward. Castle's staring intently at her, concentrating on keeping her aloft.

 _Probably wouldn't be a good idea to start this discussion by dropping her._

"This is new," Beckett says conversationally from beside Castle, impressed.

"I'll show you how," Castle grunts as he keeps his focus on Alexis.

Lifting his free hand in front of him, Castle pivots his wrist slowly. Alexis spins at the same rate, completing a full revolution before coming to a stop. Then, after slowly starting to lower back towards the couch, she falls the last bit all at once, landing with a flop.

"Sorry, Pumpkin," Castle apologizes for the abrupt reentry. "I've only done that with a couch cushion."

Looking shocked from her experience, Alexis says the first thing that comes to mind. "Size matters not," she replies in a decent impersonation of Yoda.

"Oh, I've missed you," Castle beams proudly. "So, I'm guessing you'd like an explanation?"

"Yes, please," Alexis says, still looking a little shocked from her brief flight.

"I'm a Gamma," Castle says directly. "I've got abilities that allow me to do things like that. There's a whole range of possibilities," he says as he repeats his ball of light trick, this time changing the color of the fireballs as they spin around his hand, "which I'm only starting to figure out."

"So, this is new?" Alexis asks, sounding hurt and surprised that her father hadn't confided in her already.

"Relatively," he answers. "End of February. Getting it under control was one of the things that wore me down this summer."

Alexis can't help but turn to Beckett after hearing this, but Castle doesn't dive into that part of the story, yet.

"I know you're upset that I didn't tell you," he confesses, causing her to shift her look back to him. "But what I can do is very, very dangerous. Gammas get stronger by practicing or by stealing the power of Gammas they kill. Two Gammas have tried to kill me already," Castle confesses to Alexis' gasp, "and we're trying to track down another one now."

 _That scowl looks Beckett-worthy._

"You're trying to find a Gamma?" Alexis asks incredulously. "Why would you do that?"

"Gammas inherit their skills," Castle explains, "but even if they get the right combination of genes, offspring aren't active Gammas until they're freed by stress or emotional turmoil. There's a Gamma hunting in New York, someone who's killing Gammas and then targeting their offspring."

"So, this is the 'medical condition' you warned me about?" Alexis asks, sounding angry and scared. "I thought I'd have to deal with high triglycerides or a genetic predisposition to mental instability, not magical powers that will make others try to kill me."

"I'm sorry, honey, but I'm still trying to figure this out," Castle apologizes. "I had a good instructor, but he was killed at the beginning of the summer."

"I guess I don't need to ask what your stressful experience was," Alexis says while shooting a look at Beckett. "I'm surprised mom or Gina didn't set you off."

"They caused some stress," Castle says with a laugh, "but it wasn't that bad. I survived."

"Glad you can laugh about it," Alexis says, her tone changing to one that sounds a little nervous, "because it might, um, happen again."

"What do you mean?" Castle asks, wondering if she's suggesting that his relationship with Beckett will end the same way as his relationships with Meredith and Gina.

"Well, you know I'm not exactly a fan of this," Alexis says while waving a hand between Beckett and Castle. "It kind of came up at dinner last night. Mom said she might need to come visit to make sure things are okay for me here."

 _My sweet, sweet girl. For someone so smart, you still inherited some of my naïvete._

"Oh, Alexis, what have you done?" Castle asks as he runs a hand through his hair. It's looking at Beckett, though, that breaks his heart. She's still holding his hand, but she's hunched in on herself, head down and silent.

"I love you, Alexis," Castle says gently. "If you'd prefer to live with your mother, I'll let you go." This causes Alexis to look up at him in shocked panic, as it's clearly not something she was thinking about. "It'll kill me, but I won't hold you back if that's what you want. But I need you to understand this," he says, sounding more determined. "I love Kate. I'm in love with Kate. I intend for her to be a significant part of my life. If you really can't try to accept her we'll go as slow as we can until you leave for college, but I'm not going to walk away from her," he vows, squeezing her hand and getting a squeeze in return. "And I'll be _damned_ if I let Meredith interfere."

"So, do you love him?" Alexis asks brusquely of Beckett, putting her on the spot.

"Alexis," Castle says as he prepares to chastise his daughter for her poor manners.

"I do," Beckett affirms confidently. "I have for a while. I'm sorry it doesn't seem that way, but we're getting better. Stronger."

 _Thank you, Kate._

"So why didn't you help him with this Gamma thing?" Alexis challenges, seemingly looking for reasons to be angry with Beckett. "Dad said he could help you with the floaty thing, so you must be one, too. Since your mom was killed, right?"

"Alexis!" Castle interrupts. "That's _way_ over the line."

"It's alright, Rick," Beckett says, trying to sound calm and accepting even though Alexis' cavalier reference to Johanna's death clearly upset her. "I'm not a natural Gamma, Alexis. Your dad made me one, back when I was shot. It's what kept me alive."

"So this," Alexis replies by waving a hand between them again, "is just a thank you."

Castle's about to reply when Beckett squeezes his hand again to forestall him. "I fell in love with your father before I knew anything about Gammas," Beckett says. "If I could give the power back to him, I would."

"So what happens when she leaves?" Alexis asks, turning back to Castle. "Will that kill you or make you weak or something?"

 _If she leaves, it won't be anything about Gammas that breaks me._

"She's not going to leave," Castle says confidently, getting another squeeze to his hand.

"Don't be naïve, Dad. She's going to leave," Alexis sighs in resignation. "They always leave."

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _I hope Castle's trying to heal his heart right now_.

"I understand why you think that, especially about me," Beckett answers gently while Castle's trying to get himself under control. "I haven't given either of you much reason to trust that I'll stay. But I'm in this. I want a future with both of you."

That vow seems to knock Alexis back, gives her something to think about for a few moments. "This isn't about your mom's case?" Alexis asks quietly.

"No, it's not," Beckett begins to explain before Castle interjects.

"Yes, it is," he contradicts.

 _What? That's not why I'm staying._

"I know that's not why you're staying, Kate, at least not directly," Castle says while rubbing her hand with his thumb. "But loving you means embracing you, all the parts of you. Your quest for justice for your mom is one of the things that makes you extraordinary. We can't expect you to give that up. We just have more reason to be careful. We also," he adds challengingly, "have new tools at our disposal."

Ignoring the disapproval radiating from the couch, Beckett can't stop herself from giving a quick tug on Castle's hand so that he leans over far enough for a quick kiss. "Love you," she says quietly.

Risking a quick look at Alexis, Beckett's surprised to see that she doesn't look quite so fierce. She's thinking about the interactions that she's seen. _That's all I can really ask of her, at least until I have a chance to show her that I mean what I say._

"So," Alexis says after a few more moments, anxious to move this along. "You both have these powers and there's a chance I might have them. And there's someone in the city who's killing people with powers and their children. What next?"

"I've got some homework for you," Castle says with a chuckle. Using his free hand, he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a flash drive on a lanyard. "I've talked with our attorney and things are set up in case any of us need to move quickly to disappear. The details are on here. I've also been keeping a journal of everything I've figured out – if you ever have a stressful situation that frees you and I'm not around to talk to you right away, this should help." Then, looking impish again, he just can't refrain from a parting shot. "Though this conversation has probably been stressful enough to awaken your powers if you had them."

"Are you kidding?" Alexis asks him. "It might take me a while to wrap my head around this," she says while making a circular motion with her hand to take in Castle and Beckett, still unwilling to recognize their relationship by articulating it, and then rotating into the air to refer to her impromptu flight, "but this isn't even the most stressful conversation I've had this week."

"Really?" Castle asks curiously. "Everything okay?"

"Mom was very interested in my sex life," Alexis says with an embarrassed shrug.

 _Now_ there _is a priceless facial expression._

" _Your what?!_ " Castle squeaks. "But you don't have one!" he says confidently before his look crumples. "Do you?"

Rolling her eyes, Alexis shares a quick conspiratorial look with Beckett. _Thank you for that, Alexis. Maybe there's hope for us._

"She had some ideas on how I could find one," Alexis answers, blushing nearly as deeply as her father.

"What?!" Castle squeaks an octave higher and decibel louder. "Beckett, you've seen Superman, right? You and I, we're going to Gamma the San Andreas Fault wide open and send Meredith out to sea."

"That sounds a little extreme, Rick," Beckett chuckles, trying to jostle him back into a place where his pulse rate drops back down into double digits. "Why don't we try something a little more conventional, like trusting Alexis to find her way and to ask questions when she'd like advice?"

"Sure, yeah, okay," Castle mumbles. "As soon as I figure out how to put a shield around her, that'll work fine. And maybe a homing beacon."

"Dad, you're being ridiculous," Alexis replies. "Within a year I'll be off at college, probably in a coed dorm. You need to start getting used to the idea."

"They don't have coed dorms at convents," Castle grumbles, but relents. "Okay, Pumpkin, consider the subject changed for now. I'm at least glad to hear that you found this conversation with your mother stressful. Better that than laughing and trading notes."

"No offense, Dad, but mom and I don't really have the same tastes or interests," Alexis demurs.

"Thank God," Castle prays again.

 _Amen._

"So," Alexis says, sounding a little desperate to change the topic. "If Gammas try to steal each other's powers, you must be able to do some pretty cool stuff, right? What can you do?"

"We're not really sure, yet," Castle answers, happy to change topics. "I've got a list going of the things I want to try. So far, I've mostly just copied what others have done. You saw the levitation thing and the fireballs. We can hide behind illusions, release an electrical charge, and manipulate water."

 _A list? I can just bet what's on it._

"And you can heal yourself and others," Beckett interjects. "He saved Kevin's life," she praises to Alexis' wide eyes. "And my father's. He figured out how to do that all on his own," she says proudly.

"Can he turn water into wine?" asks a voice from the kitchen. There stands Martha Rodgers, pouring herself a glass of wine after somehow sneaking in while they were distracted by their discussion. _Nice detective reflexes_ , Beckett criticizes herself.

Traipsing over to the lounge area, Martha stops briefly to give Beckett a welcome hug before sitting down next to Alexis and wrapping her free arm around the girl's shoulders and dropping a kiss on her cheek.

"Mother, what a delightful surprise," Castle deadpans. "Was that wishful thinking on your part or are you suggesting that I have a messianic complex?"

"At least the former," Martha replies airily. "Sounds like you're going to need some anesthetic for Alexis' entry into the coed life."

"Thanks," Castle grumbles. "So, I take it you've heard what we're talking about?"

"I did, thank you very much for asking," Martha replies waspishly. "And thank you for the invitation as well."

"We thought it would be best to ease into it with Alexis," Castle rationalizes, but he realizes his mistake immediately.

"Oh, ' _we_ ' did?" Martha asks while taking in Beckett and Castle. Before either can object or clarify, she rolls on. "It's about time. Perhaps Katherine can help keep you in line." Then, with stage-honed grace, Martha stands and walks to Beckett, taking her hand out of Castle's and prompting her to stand for another hug. "Welcome, Katherine. I'm so very glad to see you here at last."

"Thank you, Martha," Beckett rasps out. "I'm sorry it took so long," she adds, looking over Martha's shoulder at Alexis.

"Nonsense," Martha tuts before placing a quick kiss on Beckett's cheek. "Ours is not a family that dwells on the past," she says as she steps away and reclaims her seat next to Alexis. "We're all here now and looking forward to what's to come."

 _Thank you, Martha, for your confidence in us_ , Beckett thinks. Looking over at Castle, she can see him thinking the same thing.

"I should say that this talk of inherited magic doesn't really surprise me," Martha offers in an effort to get them back on topic.

"Let me guess," Castle says with a roll of his eyes. "It accounts for my success, that my writing somehow ensorcels my readers?"

"Honestly, Richard," Martha admonishes. "Magical or not, the earth revolves around the sun, not you. I was thinking about your father."

"Really?" Castle asks, immediately intrigued.

"How so, Martha?" Beckett asks, sharing Castle's interest.

"Richard's father could do remarkable things," Martha answers after taking a contemplative sip of wine. "I thought he was just a talented man – I didn't know there was anything magical about it."

"What could he do?" Castle asks curiously. From what he's told her, Castle knows very little about his father and Martha hasn't said much about him.

"Leave me boneless, for one," Martha says with a smirk to Beckett. "I thought that was just talent, though, not magic."

"Mother," Castle says in a queasy tone while closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And then afterwards, when I thought I couldn't move, he'd do something that'd refresh me and we'd start over again," she cackles.

"Ew, Gram!" Alexis says, making Beckett recall Ryan's desperate reaction to her teasing at the precinct.

"What?" Martha feigns confusion while looking from Alexis to Beckett. "He had to get here somehow, right?" she asks while looking at Castle, who's apparently trying to figure out a way to get the ground to swallow him whole. "He's certainly no divinity and I certainly wasn't… well, anyway, I imagine you two know what I'm talking about," she says while offering Beckett an exaggerated wink.

 _Dear Lord. She's worse than my father. And there goes any ground that I'd gained with Alexis._

"Mother, please," Castle nearly begs. "Let's avoid any further trauma. Was there anything outside of the reproductive arts that my father could do?"

"I really don't know, Richard," Martha says while settling down, content now that she's made each of them blush. "We didn't spend as much time together as I would've liked. But your conversation has given me one thing to treasure."

 _Aside from our embarrassed reactions?_

"What's that, Martha?" Beckett asks.

"I'd always wondered why he never came back, even if only to see Richard," Martha sighs sadly before taking a large drink from her wineglass. "Now I can let myself think that he was trying to protect us. If he's the source of Richard's abilities, then his disappearance might've been an act of kindness rather than cowardice."

"Do you…," Castle trails off before rallying to try again. "Do you have anything we could use to try to find him?"

 _Oh, Castle. It took 40 years for Martha to talk about your father and it couldn't be more clear how badly you want this._

"Just a name," Martha says sadly. "The name of a ghost. According to the military, he never existed. He had no family, no roots. If not for you, Richard, there'd be no evidence that he was ever real," she ends quietly before finishing her glass of wine.

"Martha, would you give me his name, and maybe a description?" Beckett asks gently to break the silence. "There are some places we can check. I don't want to raise anyone's hopes, but I'd like to try, if it's okay with you?" Castle's gentle squeeze to her hand conveys his thanks.

"Certainly, Katherine," Martha says before rallying herself. "Now, if you two wouldn't mind, I've been missing my granddaughter terribly and would like to take her out for dessert. It sounds," Martha says in a put-upon tone, "as if I have some romantic advice to undo after her trip to LA. Come along, darling, and I'll tell you everything you need to know about men."

"This is my choice?" Castle laments. "Alexis gets her relationship advice from my ex-wife or my mother?" Reclaiming his hand from Beckett's grasp, Castle leans forward with an elbow on each knee, holding his head in his hands before he turns and quirks an eyebrow at Beckett.

 _You must be kidding. I'm still figuring this out myself!_

"Don't look at me," Beckett says quickly. "Trust me, Rick, if you'd seen the boys I dated when I was Alexis' age, you might not find Meredith's advice so terrible."

"Really?" asks Alexis in far too interested a tone for Castle's liking.

"I'll have to check the yearbook," Castle replies, using the opportunity to be mischievous to improve his mood.

At Beckett's pursed mouth and fierce look, Alexis's curiosity is piqued. "You have her yearbook?"

"There's some interesting stuff in there," Castle nods, ignoring Beckett's growl. "I'll show you."

"You most certainly will not," Beckett replies quickly.

"Sounds negotiable," Castle teases with an inquisitive look.

"You know what's not negotiable?" Beckett replies. "Hospital visiting hours."

"You can't threaten me, Beckett," Castle laughs. "I can just heal myself."

 _Silly, silly man._

"Oh, really," Beckett challenges in a deceptively sweet tone of voice. "Your imagination can't come up with _anything_ I could do – or not do – to threaten you?"

"I do seem to recall a comment about _disciplining your boyfriend_ from the washroom confrontation yesterday…" Castle answers with his own leer.

"Well, Alexis," Martha interjects, "since they seem to have forgotten about us anyway, shall we make our departure?"

 _Oops._

"Gladly," Alexis replies, though her look suggests that she's not necessarily any more upset. _Maybe just seeing us together acting like a normal couple will assuage some of her concerns._

As Alexis runs up to her room for a sweater, Castle escorts his mother to the door, again holding hands with Beckett. "Thank you, Mother," Castle says sincerely. "She's just had a lot dropped on her and I'm sure she'll appreciate some time alone with you."

"Of course," Martha replies as she cups her son's cheek. "She's not the only one who could use some time alone. Just to show you how thrilled I am that the two of you have finally woken up, I'll take her to Cecilia's. You'll have at least two hours until our return. And Katherine," she says while turning to Beckett, "please don't worry about Alexis. She loves her father without bounds and will welcome anything that makes him happy. Which you clearly do," she finishes with a quick hug.

Releasing Beckett as Alexis comes down the stairs, Martha dons her own coat with her son's assistance. "Shall we, my dear?"

"We shall," Alexis agrees and steps towards the door. After a few steps, Alexis pauses. Turning, she returns to give her father a quick, fierce hug. "Love you," she whispers.

"Love you, too. Go have some fun, but leave some room for Welcome Back Waffles in the morning," Castle requests with a smile. "And watch out for Mother and her advice. Be careful!"

"You, too," Alexis replies while giving Beckett a quick look and stepping out of the hug. "Goodbye, Detective Beckett," she manages to say politely if not cordially.

"Until next time," Beckett replies kindly, adopting Castle's words of departure. From her look, Alexis recognizes both the source of her words and the subtext. _Why say goodbye when we'll see each other soon?_

"So," Beckett says as the door closes behind the redheads. "Two hours?"

"It's a start," Castle barely manages to say before Beckett grabs his hand and tugs him toward the bedroom.

* * *

A/N2: The next chapter will pick up where this one ends. (Well, not _right_ after, but a bit later on the same night).


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

" _So," Beckett says as the door closes behind the redheads. "Two hours?"_

" _It's a start," Castle barely manages to say before Beckett grabs his hand and tugs him toward the bedroom._

* * *

 **Castle**

"So, you've got a list of things you want to try?" Beckett asks while kicking the comforter off the bottom of the bed, still too hot to even have it nearby.

 _You walked right into this one._

"Of course I have a list," Castle pants with an eyebrow waggle. "I've been waiting years for the chance to…"

"Not _that_ kind of list," Beckett cuts him off with what starts as a swat but turns into a chance to rub Castle's chest. "Well, I take it back. I wanna hear about that list later. But I was talking about your Gamma list."

"Oh, that list," Castle replies coyly. "Yeah, I've putting together a list of things to try."

"And how much of that list is related to what we just did?" Beckett asks with an arched brow.

 _Not nearly enough._

"Less than half!" Castle answers, pretending offense. "Maybe."

Huffing again, Beckett draws lazy whorls with her fingertips while Castle hums in appreciation. "What's on the other half of the list? Anything we could try tonight before Alexis and Martha return?"

"Sure," Castle answers while rolling over onto his stomach. "There's one thing that's been bothering me. Put your finger on my nexus?" he asks.

"Put my finger _where?_ " she asks with a leer. "Oh, right, 'nexus,'" she chuckles as Castle huffs, too. Surprising him, Beckett rises from the bed to straddle Castle's thighs. After giving his shoulders a squeeze, she takes advantage of the opportunity to run her hands down his naked back, 'accidentally' overshooting his lower back to graze his behind before retreating to where his nexus resides.

 _God bless this woman._

"Vixen," Castle groans, pulling another laugh from Beckett.

After directing her finger until it's directly over his nexus, Castle explains what he wants to try. "I've been wondering about whether there's a vulnerability with the nexus," he says as a sphere appears above his head, suffusing the darkened room with a soft light. "I want you to picture a bubble around my nexus. If it's possible to block a Gamma by interfering with their nexus, then my light should wink out."

"I don't know, Castle," Beckett replies nervously. "I tried to rub your cheek yesterday and I almost took your head off. This doesn't seem like a good idea."

"I trust you, Kate," Castle replies with such sincerity that Beckett's gaze goes soft. "You won't hurt me. Besides, if I'm right, you won't be able to do anything to me."

"You're sure?" Beckett asks.

"Come on, Beckett, let your Gamma flag fly," Castle teases her. "I'll be fine. Just picture a transparent bubble surrounding my nexus. Are you doing that?"

"Yes," Beckett whispers, clearly still nervous about this experiment.

"It's a clear bubble, right?" Castle asks. "Now, think about it becoming opaque. It's thick, heavy, impermeable."

"You've got the sexiest pillow talk," Beckett teases to relieve some tension.

"Trust me," Castle laughs in return, the motion jostling Beckett. "This isn't what I thought we'd be doing whenever I imagined you straddling me in my bed."

"Which I'm sure you only imagined once or twice," Beckett suggests.

"Per hour," Castle agrees, "every day, for years." _Still an underestimate._

Shaking her head at his ridiculous optimism, Beckett refocuses on her task and is surprised when she can almost see the bubble form around the nexus area on Castle's lower back. It's as if the humor and comfort she feels in his affections makes this easier, which it probably does.

"Okay, Castle, I've got the bubble," she says with a note of pride. "I'm going to try to make it solid."

Beckett's concentration initially yields results – she can picture the bubble growing opaque and Castle's sphere growing dimmer. But just when she thinks that she's making progress, the bubble goes transparent and Castle's light fully returns.

"Sorry, Rick," Beckett says with some frustration. "I don't think I'm doing this right."

"You're doing it exactly right," Castle disagrees. "Hold onto that bubble. This time I want you to think about it differently. We're all about running water, right? Picture a dam in your mind, all that water that wants to rush down the canyon penned up and constrained. The pressure keeps building and building," he says almost hypnotically.

 _Why does it feel like I'm describing us?_

"You're the dam, Beckett. You're going to keep holding that water back until the water is ready to burst through. At the last moment, you're going to bring down the wall and convert all that potential energy to kinetic energy. It's going to slam down all at once and that bubble will feel almost solid. You ready?"

"I'm ready," she replies, stronger this time.

"Feel the pressure building? Just hold on, Beckett, hold on as long as you can," Castle encourages.

"Rick," Beckett whispers a few moments later, "Rick, it's time."

"Let it go, Kate," he whispers in reply.

 _Hope this works…_

What happens next takes them both by surprise. Beckett collects the flood of energy and focuses it all on Castle's lower back. But rather than form a bubble, the energy sends an electrical shock through both of them, jolting them with energy and light and instantly extinguishing Castle's sphere. Their bodies convulse in reaction before nearly shutting down.

 _I think we'll keep the taser out of the bedroom from now on. Not sexy._

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Beckett gasps as she comes back to herself moments later, finding that the jolt's left her sprawled across Castle's back. Somehow, Castle manages to spin beneath her, rolling onto his back so that he can cradle her. "My fault," he manages to say. "Thought that might happen."

"You thought we might get electrocuted?" Beckett asks incredulously, wishing she had enough energy to get properly angry.

"Well, not that exactly," Castle confesses. "But I thought you wouldn't be able to contain my nexus."

"I'm sorry," Beckett apologizes again. "I don't know why I can't seem to master the stuff that comes to you so easily. This is just last night all over again," she says in frustration.

"Hey," Castle interjects, drawing long, smooth strokes down her naked back. "Last night was just your second lesson, you'll get the hang of things. As for today, I don't think I could do this, either. I don't think we can do this to each other." At her inquisitive hum, Castle explains his theory. "We're not two Gammas, Kate," he reminds her gently. "We're one Gamma split in half. You trying to turn off my power would be like you trying to make yourself stop breathing. You could try, but ultimately your body will act to save itself."

"So why did we even try?" Beckett asks in confusion.

"Well, I wasn't sure about the split-in-half thing," Castle admits, "and because it still proves that there's a vulnerability with the nexus. If there wasn't, nothing would've happened."

"You're thinking about our killer, aren't you?" Beckett asks.

 _Only a homicide cop would be okay with this kind of post-coital conversation._

"How can you arrest a Gamma?" Castle answers. "How would you keep her locked up? She could just walk out, either unlocking the door or maybe walking right through it. And who knows how many people would die in retaliation?"

"So, are you trying to think of a way to block a Gamma or to remove the abilities altogether?" Beckett asks, relaxing further into him and letting her hands wander.

"I'm wondering why everything needs to be a battle to the death," Castle admits, starting let his own hands wander south from Beckett's back. "It'd be nice to think that you could remove someone's ability to cause such devastation without killing them. But maybe that would still be fatal, or maybe it would be like performing a lobotomy."

"Or like severing someone's daemon?" Beckett asks with a raised brow.

"Exactly, Lyra," Castle enthuses, pleased beyond measure by this reference to Pullman's classic. "There's just so much we don't know and it makes me nervous about catching the killer and protecting my family."

"We'll figure it out, Rick," Beckett says as she nuzzles his neck in coordination with her wandering hands. "We've made it this far," she says before her hand grabs something sensitive in a slightly menacing manner. "But you need to share these things with me," she says pointedly, though her tone is commanding less of his attention than her grip. "Ever since Calypso you've suspected that we couldn't use our abilities against each other, right?"

 _I much prefer when it's my ear she grabs like this._

"It was a guess," Castle squirms. "How did you know?"

"When we were talking about Calypso's threat to have you kill me, you changed the subject, remember?" Beckett asks, relaxing her grip but keeping her hand in place to rub away any discomfort.

"Busted," Castle admits, squirming now for a different reason. "But, yeah, I was wondering about that after we figured out the nature of our connection. I think it goes deeper than what we just tried. I don't think we can really hurt each other," Castle begins to theorize before Beckett cuts him off.

"Rick, I belted you yesterday," she confesses again. "You can't tell me that didn't hurt."

"It stung, sure," Castle says quickly, trying to brush past yesterday's mishap. "But it wasn't a big deal, and I'm sure in a karmic sense I've had that coming for years," he jokes, then laughs at her vigorous nodding. "But I don't…"

Wondering why he trailed off, Beckett stills her hands. "Rick?"

"Sit up?" Castle says in a resigned voice after patting her behind. Her surprise at his willful departure from their naked embrace is heightened by his tone of voice and the shirt he passes her after he covers himself with the bedsheet.

"What's bothering you, Castle?" she asks as she puts her arms through his shirt but refrains from buttoning up.

"I've got a conundrum," he starts.

"Says the author," she interjects to tease, hoping to get them onto familiar terrain and lighten the mood.

Huffing a laugh, Castle relaxes a bit. "You said you wanted me to share what I'm thinking, what I suspect about our connection," he explains while Beckett nods. "But I'm also really, really happy right now. We're together and it's even better than I imagined. I don't want to freak you out or scare you off."

"Rick," Beckett says while holding her hand out for him to grasp, "didn't you hear what I told Alexis? I'm in this. I want a future with you," she repeats her vow.

Taking her hand gratefully, he drinks her in for a few moments before proceeding. "Tell me this," he says to get started, "that first night, after the tiger – did your leg hurt?" At her nod, Castle nods, too, then continues. "When you and the boys were kidnapped, I nearly passed out. I felt it when they bashed you on the head. I'd bet your cheek hurt yesterday, too, though probably not enough to notice with everything else going on."

"But we know this already," Beckett soothes. "Our connection helps us feel what happens to each other. It saved my life," she says sincerely, before her face takes on a decidedly devilish look, "and the bedroom implications are staggering. Literally."

"I know, right?" Castle says with a laugh. "I'm glad to hear it's not just me! But that's the good side. I'm starting to wonder," he says as he looks at their clasped hands, "about the cost, especially for you."

"Come on, Castle, just say it already," Beckett cajoles in exasperation. "You're worried that we're tied together irrevocably, that if one of us were to die it would kill the other." Noticing that he's gaping at her, she just shrugs. "It's the obvious conclusion, right? We're stronger because your power is distributed to both of us, which helped against Calypso. But we're weaker, too, because we'll both die if one of us is killed."

"You're okay with that?" Castle asks in confusion.

"Castle, I'm a cop," she clarifies for him. "I've lived with the chance that someone would kill me for the entirety of my career."

"I know you're okay with the risks, that's not what I'm talking about," Castle replies with some frustration. "I'm talking about us – you didn't ask for this, Kate. I did something to you without your permission that's left you stuck with me 'irrevocably,' as you said."

 _Please don't run._

"Yes," Beckett interjects fiercely. "Yes, you did – you tried to take a bullet for me, even though we weren't together yet. And you saved my life. And you gave me the space I needed to heal, inside and out. But above all, you stayed – from the very beginning, you proved to me that you'd be there for me. So, yes, Rick, we're irrevocably tied together," she vows, pulling his hand toward her and holding it in place over her heart. "And it has nothing to do with mystical powers or obligations. It's because you made it impossible not to fall in love with you."

Stunned by her words or trying to commit them to memory, Castle sits in place while his eyes rove over her form, from her eyes to the heart beneath his palm. "God, I love you," he whispers.

"Good," Beckett says resolutely, "'cause you're stuck with me. Now come on, handsome," she says while reclaiming his hand in hers and tugging him toward the edge of the bed. "It's still early days with Alexis and I don't want to overdo my presence before she's used to us. So, Mr. Running Water, let's go investigate the restorative powers of your shower before I need to leave."

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Just calling to tuck me in?" Beckett asks with a smile as she cradles the phone to her head.

 _Not that I would've slept without hearing from you._

"Of course," Castle replies. "It's all part of the experience. It'll be easier when I can do it in person, though."

"Yeah, it will," Beckett replies softly, surprising them both with her candor. "How's Alexis?"

"She's…," Castle trails off. "Honestly? She's confused and hurt and scared. But, she talked to me. Just a little, but it was enough to make us both feel a little better. Good enough to get at least a little sleep tonight, anyway."

"I'm sorry, Rick," Beckett replies ruefully. "This would be so much easier if I'd treated you differently…"

"Hey," Castle interjects, "we both made some mistakes, but we're here now. And if I haven't mentioned it, I'm very, very happy with where we are now. She'll come around. Sooner, if I can stop being such a jackass."

"Hey, now who needs to go easy on himself?" Beckett cajoles.

"I really scared her," Castle says in a low voice. "Not with the… family medical condition stuff," he fumbles, unwilling to talk about being a Gamma on the phone, "but with my comment about letting her live with Meredith. She wasn't thinking that way at all and my comment made her think that a part of me might want her to leave."

 _That poor girl. We've got to find a better balance – I don't want to be responsible for harming their beautiful relationship._

"Oh, Rick," Beckett laments. "We can… I don't know, slow down or take a break if she needs some time to make sure she's okay," she offers, though her distress at doing so is apparent.

"No, Kate, no," Castle soothes in reply. "We just need to ease into things, let her see us together. If anything, it might help to see you around a little more."

"Well, if that's what the doctor orders," Beckett says in a more cheerful voice, trying to make things lighter before they retire for the evening, "then how can I argue?"

"Sure," Castle huffs, "wait until after you leave to start talking about playing doctor."

"Just add it to the list," Beckett suggests, turning his pout into an exuberant laugh.

"Fair warning, Beckett," Castle warns, "I'm looking for excuses to make the list longer."

"Excellent," Beckett replies happily. "Hey, Rick?" she asks after his laugh of agreement. "Thank you," she says earnestly. "For your faith in us, for inviting me into your family."

"'Course," Castle replies. "It's where you belong."

After Beckett's pause makes him wonder if she's embarrassed, Castle tries to lighten the conversation a bit. "Speaking of family, our newest member still needs a name."

"Did you buy a hamster, Castle?" Beckett asks.

"Ew, no," Castle replies in distaste, providing fodder that Beckett tucks away for future teasing. "I talked to Bert the boat guy after you left. We're all set for a delivery a week from Friday. But, we've only got three days left on her name for the paperwork. I told him you'd call."

 _Time to pay up for the yearbook, partner._

"So, you're really giving me the naming rights?" Beckett asks in amusement, setting the trap.

"That was the deal, right?" Castle answers impishly. "You criticize the old names, you have to come up with the new one. Pressure's on, Beckett," he taunts. "Bet you're realizing how good those names were now, right?"

 _You asked for this Castle. Over and over again._

"Actually, Rick," Beckett replies with a tone of slight defeat, "I was wondering if you could provide some advice."

"No, no, no," Castle replies, and Beckett can almost hear his waggling finger. "No cheating. This is your responsibility, partner."

"Okay," Beckett agrees. "But there's no rule against thinking out loud and making note of any aural cues and reactions. How good are you at masking your reactions, Mr. Poker Face?"

"Excellent, obviously," Castle replies haughtily.

 _Sucker._

"Well, I'm sure articulating my thoughts will help me make some decisions anyway," Beckett says reasonably. "I've got three categories of names I'm thinking about, though they're not mutually exclusive."

"You even make naming a boat sound sexy," Castle marvels in an undertone, but Beckett continues despite the distraction.

"First, I'm reminded that my friend Jonas will spend most of the time on the boat, so we need something fitting for him. Something that characterizes his personality. So, this category includes sweet, girly, precious things. _Princess Fairy Unicorn_ , maybe, or _Tinkerbell's Toy_ , something like that," Beckett says with an admirably straight face. Castle manages to remain silent, though she can hear him shifting uncomfortably.

"The second category," Beckett continues, "is a little more creative. You've helped me realize in the last few years, _Rick_ , how good it feels to challenge convention, to cut loose a little."

Though he may act it occasionally, Castle's no fool. He suspects a Beckett trap and sits quietly, waiting for the boom to fall.

 _You ready, Writer Man?_

"So, I was thinking that the second category would be names that defy the tyranny of grammatical conventions and spelling customs. I have many, many options here, names like _Your Invited_ or _Look Whose Talking_ ," spelling the names out to ensure his understanding.

"You wouldn't…" Castle can't stop himself from moaning.

Ignoring his dismayed reaction, Beckett plows on. "But the third category, Castle…," she says with a raised brow. "The _third_ category might be the best. Do you remember how _pleased_ I was last time we had a conversation about names?"

Beckett knows he's on the same page when a small groan signals his horrifying realization. "Nikki. Heat. A stripper name, Castle," Beckett reminds him, "and one that you resolutely defended in the name of artistic integrity. I confess," Beckett says in a tone simulating contrition, "that I didn't understand your fierce stance on the name back then, but I do now. I mean, the names in this category, they just speak to me, you know?"

She pauses to allow Castle a chance to respond, but he's uncharacteristically silent.

" _Patterson's Pleasure_ has kind of been growing on me," Beckett admits. "It's got alliteration, an allusion to literature, and it helps us hide, right?" Silence. "But my favorite in this category is probably _Kitten's Kruiser_ ," Beckett muses. "That one checks the boxes in all three categories if we spell it right, by which I mean wrong."

 _Poor Rick, I imagine you're looking a little green._

"So, Mr. Castle," Beckett asks in her detective tone after a few more moments of silence from Castle, "would you care to revise your statement?"

"About giving you the naming rights or about how you can't threaten me?" Castle laments.

"Your phone 'poker face' perfectly masked any reactions, so I'd welcome any advice you have to help me resolve my naming dilemma," she requests as she chooses not to glory too much in having turned the tables on him.

Beckett can imagine the squirrels darting around in his head, scurrying madly to find the one nut of an idea that might salvage this situation for him. She also hears the moment he comes to a decision. "If you're going to be there with me, Kate," he says quietly, "then the name doesn't matter."

 _Damn you_ , she thinks affectionately, marveling at his answer.

"Love you, partner," Beckett huffs affectionately. "Now go dream of me."

"I have for years," Castle confesses.

* * *

 **Castle**

 _She looks more beautiful every time I see her._

"Her name was Lisa Economides," Beckett says as she accepts a cup of coffee from him, boldly stroking his fingers in the handoff.

"Who?" Castle asks, confused by the quick start and maybe dazzled by the quick physical connection in the midst of the precinct.

"Calypso," Beckett answers quietly, sliding a piece of paper across the desk to him. "I checked Missing Persons on a hunch. She has a sister – Diane – who works for Deloitte, splitting her time between New York and London. She just filed a report."

 _Either you're an even better actress than I thought or you've taken compartmentalizing to a new level._

"Are you okay with this?" Castle asks in a low tone. When Beckett casts him a confused look, he explains. "You've built a career around providing closure and justice to the families who've lost loved ones," he says gently. "But we know Diane's not going to get closure."

"No, she won't," Beckett agrees. "But justice? Her sister tried to kill us, Castle," she whispers. "And you tell me, since I've got no frame of reference – how strong was she? Can you tell if she'd killed others before coming for us?"

Glancing down at the report on Lisa Economides, Castle frowns. "She was only 28. She wasn't nearly as strong as the woman who killed Joseph, but she wasn't weak, either, or inexperienced." With a sigh, Castle capitulates. "I don't really know," he admits, "but I'm pretty sure she was much stronger than she could've been on her own."

"So, she was a killer, Castle," Beckett summarizes, "a killer who died while trying to kill us. Do I feel good about what happened? No, and I hope I never become numb about what we had to do," she says in a somber voice. "It'll be hard, accepting that her sister won't have the peace of mind from knowing her Lisa's fate, but it's the price we pay, because of who we are and what we do."

 _Being okay from afar is different than what we'll need to do, though._

"Can you face her? The sister, Diane?" Castle asks gently.

"What do you mean? This isn't a homicide case," Beckett answers with a penetrating look, "and it would be odd for us to get involved in a Missing Persons case unless the evidence suggested a murder."

"I'm not necessarily suggesting _official_ involvement," Castle clarifies, still in a low voice. "This says Diane's holding a vigil on Thursday night if her sister isn't found by then. The more noise she makes about her sister's disappearance, the more vocal she is about how wonderful and successful her sister was…"

"The more likely the killer we're looking for might recognize the reason for Lisa's disappearance," Beckett finishes for him. "And if that happens…,"

"Then he might come for Diane," Castle nods. "In fact, we could bait the killer," Castle continues. "Not at the vigil, but later. We'd have to get Diana out of the picture," he says with furrowed brow, "but just assume that we can figure out how to do that. Then we could flare a little Gamma power from her apartment, make any observer think that the trauma of Lisa's disappearance freed Diana."

"Seems like a longshot," Beckett thinks aloud, "but we don't really have any viable leads. Gates is already acting as if this is a tally in the loss column."

"Even if we're right," Castle says, "it'll still be a loss as far as the precinct closure statistics are concerned. If we find the killer and he's a Gamma, then…"

"Poof," Beckett supplies.

"Poof," Castle agrees, "unless there's some way to shut down his nexus."

"You know the biggest challenge to your plan, right?" Beckett asks with a perched brow.

 _Can't be a bigger challenge than getting you to believe in it!_

"The boys," Castle answers. "Well, technically, anyone official. It's going to be difficult to explain why we're staking out the sister of a Missing Person who had no connection to your homicide case."

"We don't want a connection," Beckett replies, surprising Castle. "If Lisa's disappearance is linked to Gamma activity and then connected to a homicide that a Gamma might recognize, it'd be hard to hide that there are people in the precinct who know about Gammas."

 _She figures things out without even knowing she's doing it – talk about a natural detective. Time to fess up, before things get uncomfortable._

Castle nods, a faraway look in his eyes suggesting that he's deep in thought. "You're right, of course. It reminds me of something else I've been thinking about," he confesses. "I guess I should probably tell you about it before risking any bodily injury," he says while letting his eyes drift down, reminding them both of her threatening grip the night before.

"Good idea," Beckett agrees with a nod.

"I was thinking about what you just said – signaling that someone in the precinct would know about Gammas. I don't know much about us or our history, but if our skills are inherited, then it's unlikely that Gammas are relatively new. And if Gammas aren't new, how likely is it that we've escaped notice over the decades or centuries?"

"I don't mean this to be flippant," Beckett prefaces, "because I know we're talking about something serious. But I'm in a _relationship,_ " she whispers, "with my favorite author. So, tell me a story?"

 _You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that._

"It's not so much a story as a collection of musings," Castle confesses. "Story ideas, maybe. But look at history – there've been exceptional people whose amazing accomplishments might make more sense through the Gamma lens."

"Are you going to tell me that miracles were acts of Gammas, that our modern religious traditions are built on a foundation of Gamma activity?" Beckett asks.

"No, no, no," Castle says quickly and emphatically. "Beckett, I can already smell sulphur and brimstone – there's no way I'm going to actively provide any more reasons for any deity to have it in for me. Other than pre-marital sex, of course," he says with an eyebrow waggle.

"Pre-marital?" Beckett asks with a perched brow.

"Just focus on the sex part for now," Castle encourages her. "We'll talk about the marital part later."

"Sooner," Beckett corrects him. At his flummoxed look, she clarifies. " _'Later'_ sounds too indeterminate, too far in the future to be reliable. We're not there yet, but I'd prefer we talk about it sooner rather than later."

"Sooner's better than later," Castle replies with a stunned nod. "I like sooner. I love sooner."

"Good," Beckett says crisply. "If not religions," she asks to get them back to their discussion, "what historical aspects of Gammas were you thinking about?"

"My thoughts started with certain historical figures," Castle explains, still looking pleasantly dazed. "Doesn't Rasputin seem like a likely suspect? He was even smart enough to play puppet master. Or what about Nostradamus, or Joan of Arc, or…"

"Merlin? Agrippa? Ptolemy?" Beckett suggests.

"So. Freaking. Hot." Castle mumbles, before shaking his head to get back on track. "But then I got to thinking about people who could've been Gammas on behalf of their country, as an extension of diplomatic or military might."

"Examples?" prompts an intrigued looking Beckett.

"How did Trotsky wake up with an icepick in his head 2,000 miles away from Moscow? Was it really an umbrella that delivered a ricin pellet into Georgi Markov in London, or tea that irradiated Alexander Litvinenko?" Castle asks. "I bet some of my conspiracy theories don't sound quite so implausible anymore. Who would make a better spy, or spy catcher, than a Gamma?"

 _James Bond would still kick a Gamma's ass, though._

"You're right, Castle," Beckett says, prompting a premature look of shocked delight from Castle. "I'm _not_ agreeing with your conclusions," she clarifies with an eye roll, "just with the idea that this is an interesting thought experiment. But how is this relevant to our case?"

"It's not," Castle agrees, "or at least not directly. What it comes down to is this: we need to be careful about being discovered from within as much as from without. I don't want to get press-ganged into foreign service or find myself the prime specimen in a government lab."

"Oh, come on, Rick," Beckett teases, "I bet you always imagined seeing Area 51."

"Sure," Castle agrees readily, "but not from the inside."

"I suppose that tricks like Calypso's disguise would've come in handy during the Cold War," Beckett concedes, thinking again about the nation-state implications of what they can do.

Nodding vigorously, Castle picks up his theory. "It also explains the explosion of security and surveillance cameras," he says. Spreading his hand on his knee, he looks to Beckett. "Check out my hand."

"Castle!" she hisses in a whisper. "We're talking about keeping a low profile. I think a detective might notice that you've got six fingers!"

"Not if you're quiet about it," Castle teases with an eye roll of his own. "Grab your phone. Hold it like you're checking a text, but look at my hand through your camera app."

Hiding a look of consternation, Beckett does as Castle suggests. Getting more accustomed to these little tricks, she doesn't gasp when she understands the point of his demonstration. "Five fingers. So, the illusion must act on human senses, leaving electronics and cameras unaffected?"

"That's my theory," Castle says, "and my theory on the rapid introduction of security and surveillance cameras. But if I'm right, now we've got another problem."

"Aside from understanding the limitations in disguising ourselves?" Beckett asks. "Oh, damn – the precinct cameras. There'll be footage of Lisa Economides walking into the precinct and riding the elevator."

"Yep," Castle agrees. "Is there a camera covering the bullpen?"

"No," Beckett says, "but that won't help. You'll be on camera leaving with her. Maybe we could…"

"Hold it, Beckett," Castle asks quietly. "Don't say any more. I know where you're going and we need to be careful about how far we're willing to go here, especially under the nose of a captain who used to be in IA. _If_ someone tracks her to the precinct and _if_ someone finds the elevator footage, I'll play the playboy card. She was just some fan who somehow walked right through security and up to the homicide floor, and I left with her to get her out of the building before Gates scalped me. Easy."

"But what if she left notes of your appointments or about you where she lived?" Beckett asks, starting to understand the other side of her homicide investigation.

"I doubt that – I was going to be her meal and she wasn't big on sharing. She wouldn't leave anything behind that might lead other Gammas to me. And, even if she did, it would be all one sided – research on me, my family, my life. It'd look like a stalking situation. Let me make some calls," Castle suggests vaguely. "Worst case, it'll have to be one more example of an obsessed fan or one of Richard Castle's ridiculous flings," he sighs. "A fair number of those were fictitious anyway, so one more won't matter."

"Just as long as there are no new ones going forward," Beckett challenges, though the lilt of her voice conveys affection, maybe even confidence.

"No new ones," Castle agrees, "just the one I've recently, finally embarked upon," he says with a phantom kiss to her cheek. "I'm a reformed Bumble."

"Damn straight," Beckett says happily. "Now, stop distracting me. We need to think about how to figure out the details of your plan in parallel with pursuing a more traditional investigation for our vic."

"That's easy," Castle dismisses with a wave of his hand and a mischievous glint in his eye. "It's what we do on every case, right? You do all the hard work, the methodical review, the dissemination of evidence, the investigation. And then I come up with the right answer."

"Hold still, Castle," Beckett suggests sweetly. "I want to caress your cheek again."

* * *

A/N2: Many thanks for the reviews, including the Guest reviews that have been so interesting. They're all appreciated!

On a more somber note, Pray for Paris. Sometimes I just don't understand our world.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

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* * *

 **Esposito**

"Tell me what we're doing again, Javi?" Ryan asks from the passenger side of their borrowed car, taking another sip of his weak, tepid coffee and swearing to never do so again.

"It's called a stake-out, dumbass," Esposito replies with a huff.

"Yeah, I got that," Ryan replies, ignoring his partner's gruff response but absent-mindedly taking another sip of coffee and cringing. "But, see, usually we stake out suspects, not partners."

"Something's going on," Esposito replies. "Haven't you noticed Beckett and Castle whispering all the time, how they don't seem to be really engaged in the case?"

"A, they're dating, finally," Ryan explains to his partner. "They need occasional reprieves to build intimacy as their relationship grows."

 _I thought Castle had the female partner._

Esposito barks a cough into his hand that sounds suspiciously like "pansy."

"B," Ryan continues with a tone of forbearance, "our current homicide might not be what they're working on. This is a vigil for a missing sister – this could be personal, or really creepy research for Castle."

"They're on the move," Esposito says as he starts the car and prepares to follow Beckett and Castle. "Why're they taking a cab?" he wonders out loud.

"Because we're in one of the most populous cities in the world and parking spots cost more than college tuition?" Ryan suggests, earning only a growl from his partner. After a few moments of silence, they pull out into traffic, marking the cab into which their partners jumped.

"Not heading to the loft," Ryan says idly as they follow.

"Not Beckett's place either," Esposito agrees a few minutes later, "and not the Haunt."

After a few more minutes pass in silence, Ryan tries again. "Why do you think they're investigating something?"

 _Because I know more about Castle than you do._

"Remember when we threatened Castle?" Esposito asks, and both he and Ryan blush a little remembering the dressing-down Beckett delivered and the way she closed the discussion with an exclamation point. "Castle was plowing through reams of paper, remember?"

"Yeah, he was," Ryan recalls. "He said it was for the case but I didn't believe him."

"I think I do," Esposito replies, "but we never saw anything. I think they're on to something. Maybe it's political, or maybe it's tied in to Beckett's mom's case. It's gotta be something heavy for them to think they need to protect us from it."

"Stupid," Ryan replies. "Beckett's tough and Castle can hold his own on a good day, but if they're up against something big, they need backup."

"And _that's_ why we're here," Esposito agrees with an emphatic nod.

"Pull over," Ryan says quickly, a few minutes later. "Their cab's slowing down. We can't risk driving by them."

Turfing the car in an alley and tossing an "Official Police Use" placard on the dash, the partners quickly pile out and move to the corner of the alley in time to see Castle paying the cab driver.

"Get ready to move," Esposito says quietly. "We need to know which floor they're going to or this whole thing is screwed."

They start running as soon as Beckett and Castle enter the lobby of the apartment building. Slowing before they'd be seen through the glass windows around the entry door, Esposito takes a quick peek in time to see the elevator doors sliding closed. "Quick!"

"Shit," Esposito grumbles as he looks at the elevator to see that there's no display to show people in the lobby on which floor the elevator is traveling. "Count it out," he says to Ryan as he presses his ear to the elevator doors. "It's stopped," he says a few moments later.

"22 Mississippis, give or take," Ryan says.

" _Mississippis_ ," Esposito grumbles as he pushes the call button for the elevator. "Where'd you learn to count like that – flag football or cartoons?"

"School," Ryan mumbles with reddening cheeks that catch Esposito's attention.

 _Nice blush, Irish._

"'This some kind of Catholic school discipline thing?" he asks, then laughs when he sees Ryan's blush deepen. "Oh, honeymilk, I'm going to enjoy figuring this one out."

Shaking his head vigorously, Ryan steps onto the elevator without holding the door open for his partner. "Ready?" he asks as he hits the button for the top floor.

They both count silently as the elevator ascends, holding their tongues until it reaches the top floor. "Twelfth floor, I think," Ryan says and Esposito nods.

"It's a starting place," Esposito agrees as he hits the 12 button and checks his gun in the holster.

"This is really going to suck if we're tracking them to Castle's love nest," Ryan mutters, causing them both to shiver. "Beckett'll skin us alive."

 _Yeah, she would. And then Lanie'd autopsy whatever was left._

"Nah," Esposito assures himself and his partner. "This place isn't too bad, but Castle'd go for something nicer than this. You ready?" he asks as the elevator shivers to a halt.

They're nearing the end of the hallway when the both stop comically and stare at each other when their shoes squelch on wet carpeting. "Flooded apartment," Esposito says in disgust. "This's happened to me like five times. Sucks," he says as he looks down and follows the water toward a door.

"Make you wonder what caused the leak," Ryan ponders as he unholsters his weapon. Testing the handle and finding the door unlocked, he looks meaningfully at his partner and draws his weapon. With a silent count, they burst into the apartment to find themselves staring down the barrel of Beckett's weapon.

"Dammit, what the hell are you doing here?" Beckett tries to whisper. "Get inside! Now!"

 _You're welcome._

Looking disgruntled at the cool reception to their backup operation, the boys holster their weapons and step inside, closing the door carefully behind them.

"We okay?" Beckett asks Castle.

"Think so," Castle answers with a faraway look in his eye. "Can't really tell."

"You guys shouldn't be here," Beckett says urgently. "But you can't leave. We can't scare off our suspect. Just…," she trails off, trying to figure out what to do, "just get in the kitchen and keep out of sight."

"Last time I checked," Ryan whispers peevishly, "we were detectives, too."

"This isn't a threat that detectives can handle," Beckett says in a low voice while staring at Esposito.

 _Oh, shit._

"Seriously?" Esposito asks, rubbing his head as he tries to think through his suspicions about Castle and what it might mean that they're facing a threat that requires something like that. "We can't help at all?"

"Get in the kitchen," Castle whispers quietly. "If things go south, come out with guns blazing and don't stop shooting until you run dry. Then run like hell." As they start to move toward the kitchen, Castle interrupts again. "And guys? The safe word is 'Gates.' If anyone looks like one of us but doesn't know the word, shoot them," he says while tapping his forehead.

Ryan pauses at this odd instruction but Esposito shoves him back into motion. The boys are barely into the kitchen when Castle whispers urgently. "Someone's coming."

"Are we ready?" Beckett whispers. "Looking good, Castle," she praises before turning the apartment lights off, leaving only a glimmer of light leaking from beneath the closed bedroom door.

From their spots in the kitchen, the boys can't see Beckett or Castle, but they can see each other in the low light from the window above the sink. Ryan casts his partner a questioning look, getting only a headshake in return.

 _Not now, bro. But we'll sit down when this is done._

For several tense minutes, nothing happens. Then, slowly, the apartment door creaks open after a short, quiet knock. The only sound aside from the closing door is the squelching footsteps of a visitor.

A light from down the hallway clicks on, revealing a young woman emerging from the bedroom holding a softball bat, looking simultaneously terrified and determined to drive away any threat. Dressed in sweats and with her hair pulled back, she'd look about 17 if not for the reddened, sorrow-filled eyes that make her seem like she's seen at least 50 years of heartbreak. Ryan crawls to the corner to peek out and watch the scene. Esposito joins him in surveillance, but with a restraining hand on his partner's shoulder.

"No need for the weapon, my dear," says a man's voice. It sounds cultured, refined, the kind of voice you'd expect to hear narrating a PBS nature special or describing the background of classical artwork. It matches the tailored black suit he's wearing and his silver, styled hair. "I've simply come to pay my respects on the passing of your sister."

"Not dead," the young women squeaks out emotionally in an odd voice, still holding the bat as if ready to knock her visitor into the gap in right field.

"I fear you're mistaken, darling," the man replies, all oily smoothness. "If it's any consolation, I suspect she passed quickly. In fact," he says with a playful tone, "I suspect you could say that she just floated away."

"No!" the girl cries through a sob.

"There, there," the visitor soothes as he squelches toward her, sparing one distasteful glance downward as if annoyed by the damage this visit might be doing to his wingtip shoes. "It's best to accept the inevitable with grace," he advises devoutly, "makes the process less taxing for everyone involved."

As he steps into range, the girl swings the bat with a mighty heave. Looking almost bored, the visitor gives her a cold stare as the bat freezes in mid-air just inches from his head. Only Esposito's tightening grip on his shoulder holds Ryan back from launching himself around the corner.

"Thought so," says the girl in a much lower, more masculine voice just before the visitor is launched backward through the air, colliding with the wall and landing in a heap.

 _That sounded like…_

"Well, well," the visitor says as he stands and dusts himself off. "Clever. I assume you created the 'plumbing problem' to remove young Diane and any other nearby innocents from the premises without raising an alarm? I had arrived with hopes of a snack, and instead I find a meal. Let's see what's on the menu before I hunt her down for dessert."

As he finishes talking the room is suffused with an odd, orange light. It provides enough illumination for the detectives to see the visitor and the girl facing each other across the apartment's living room. Except it's not a girl. Like the risen sun on a foggy morning, the orange light burns off a vaporous cloud around Diane, revealing Castle in the place where the girl had been.

 _Nice trick, bro._

"This just gets better and better," the visitor says, clapping his hands in delight. "Pulp novelist Richard Castle. Or should I say NYPD consultant Richard Castle? Where's the lovely Nikki Heat?"

"It's just us," Castle says defiantly, just before Ryan breaks from Esposito's grasp and yells "Freeze! NYPD!" as he draws his weapon.

 _We finally get Castle in line and now Castle Junior is flying off the handle._

"She's not nearly as attractive as I've heard," the visitor says in disappointment while looking at Ryan.

With their position blown, Esposito quickly stands and draws his weapon, moving away from Ryan to provide a different angle and to provide a buffer between them. With a look of consternation, he sees Beckett step forward from what had looked to be a section of solid wall, leaving the visitor completely boxed in.

"I do so love it when I find one in the middle," their visitor muses, adopting a conversational tone despite the tension of the situation and ignoring the detectives altogether. "The ridiculous Richard Castle, who lives with both mother and daughter, I believe? Such a tight, tasty family unit. And a playboy, too. Perhaps there are unclaimed little Castles toddling about, just waiting to be collected?"

 _Bad move, dude._ Don't _threaten Castle's family. I saw what happened when someone threatened Beckett._

Suddenly, a web of electricity cascades around the visitor, miniscule lines of power forming a coruscating, revolving fisherman's net that doesn't even have sufficient charge to lift the hairs on the visitor's head.

As if punctured by a knife, the web is broken and dissolves, leaving the visitor unimpressed. "That's the sum of your effort?" he asks incredulously. "The glamour you cast was much more impressive. Still, consider me terrified. I surrender, officers," he says playfully, raising his hands into the air. "Please don't let this fearsome menace threaten me again. Place me in your metal bracelets and take me away to your little cell with your little guards. I have some planning to do."

With a shake of his head, Castle asks the detectives to stay in place, continuing the standoff.

"Come now," the visitor cajoles them, "we're dawdling. Take me down to the station so we can fill out all of your wonderful forms. 'Name of arresting officer,'" he says as if he's a clerk, head bobbing side to side. "'Other law enforcement personnel involved,'" he laughs. "Your bureaucracy is wonderful, simply wonderful. Not as good as the Mormons, of course, with their convenient focus on genealogy. But, it'll be enough," he says, suddenly menacing, swiveling his head to make eye contact with each of the detectives. "These are lean times," he explains, "can't risk passing up a meal. Who knows? Someone in one of your family trees might be tasty. Didn't I read, Detective Beckett, about the tragic passing of your mother? Those kinds of events are of particular interest to me."

 _Now it's on. You don't threaten kids and you don't threaten my family._

"Castle, you've tried to convince me of vampires, werewolves, and yeti," Beckett says in a low tone, focused on the visitor. "But now we meet a ghoul."

This prompts a delighted laugh from the visitor. As Esposito and Ryan both adjust their weapons while keeping them sighted on the visitor, a new electrical web sprouts around the visitor.

"Again?" he asks as if bored, though his placid complexion morphs into one of confusion as the web draws tight and recedes as if being concentrated on the left side of his chest, just below the shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he asks in a voice tinged in panic. "Stop it!"

Esposito steals a glance at Castle, who's staring at the visitor in concentration, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

 _Whatever you're doing, Castle, make sure it hurts._

"Do it," Beckett whispers, her voice carrying easily in the tense silence of the apartment.

Just as the visitor's panicked eyes travel from Beckett back to Castle, the room is filled with a chiming ring that ends with a crack, as if a crystal goblet had been tapped, then dropped. As if terrified that a mortal wound left him bleeding out, the visitor scrambles to clasp his hands against his left shoulder, struggling in vain to contain a blue mist that pours out of him, dancing and gamboling about as it coalesces into two coiled strands, a smoky caduceus that splits before surrounding and soaking into Beckett and Castle.

"What have you done?" the visitor asks in a broken voice. He throws his hand out toward Castle several times, with no effect. "What have you done?!" he yells repeatedly, moving his hands to his hair and gripping wild handfuls. Tearing at his hair, the visitor spins in place to face each of the people in the room, panting and looking deranged, until finally turning back to Castle.

" _Now_ it's time to go to the station," Beckett says with a tone of dark satisfaction.

"Noooooooo!" the visitor screams, a gut-wrenching peal of loss and rage. With speed born of deepest desperation, the visitor launches himself at Ryan in an attempt to win his freedom or to hurt his captors.

Castle's still lifting his arm to point at him when the visitor lurches to the side, collapsing after Esposito's bullet tears through his chest. With gun still drawn, Esposito walks the few steps necessary to stand over the fallen man. Apparently stifling the urge to spit on the visitor for good measure, Esposito instead watches the blood fan out as it mingles with the floodwater on the floor.

 _Goodbye, bastard. Rot in hell._

"I had him, Espo," Castle says quietly. "You didn't need to…"

"He was going for my partner," Esposito says clearly as he surveys the scene. "And he knew your secret. You'd've never been safe. Alexis would never be safe."

"I'm sorry you had to do that," Castle answers in a low voice as he approaches Esposito. "Thank you," he says, "Thank you for protecting my family. I owe you."

"You protected my family," Esposito answers with a nod toward Ryan.

"Yes, he did," Beckett answers while tapping on her chest.

 _Of course. I shoulda guessed._

Esposito gives her a contemplative nod, then turns back to Castle. "You don't owe me, bro. This isn't about debts. This is about the bond, about doing the right thing and protecting people," he says as he extends a hand to Castle, who takes it gladly while pulling Esposito in for a backslapping hug.

 _Dude, save it for Beckett._

"Knock it off," Esposito reacts gruffly, shoving Castle away from him. "Now come on. We need to call this in and clean up this mess."

* * *

 **Beckett**

"That's quite a smile," Castle says as he settles into her chair, placing her cup of coffee on the desk while Ryan makes a delivery to Esposito.

"Just thinkin'," Beckett drawls in reply as she leans back in her chair, providing some distance between her and the form she's filling in. "This morning was nice."

' _Nice.' There's an understatement._

"It was," Castle agrees while trying to hide his besotted expression. "I could get used to waking up like that every morning."

"Yeah, I'll bet you can," Beckett replies with a leer and a raised brow.

"Not that!" Castle replies as if scandalized. "Well, not not that, that was great, too," he stumbles while Beckett laughs at his uncharacteristic verbal stumbling. Shaking his head, Castle tries again. "As wonderful as the activities were, I was more thrilled by the companion."

"Me, too," she whispers in agreement before ducking her head to hide her blush behind her hair. "You guys have a nice trip to the coffee shop?"

"Yeah, we did," Castle says, accepting the conversation change. "Ryan's on board. Not that there was much doubt, but I wanted to make sure he knew the stakes and wasn't upset about having been left out until last night."

 _And now he's got one more reason to idolize you._

"Well, you two missed the big news while you were out," Beckett teases, pausing to remove the lid from her cup and blow across the top of her drink.

"You got an ID on him?" Castle asks in interest, taking a sip of his own drink.

"No," Beckett answers with an annoyed look. "I'm starting to think we won't. But we tracked the key card in his pocket back to a residential hotel where he checked in under a fake name. CSU just called in – they found a lot of research on the Economides' as well as our vic."

"Wait a minute," Castle says, setting his coffee down to focus on Beckett. "He had research on both Economides sisters?"

 _I knew you'd see the implications immediately._

"Yes," Beckett confirms. "And his browser history and some of the printouts on Lisa pre-date her disappearance."

"So, he was tracking Calypso," Castle says in surprise. "Time to go buy a lottery ticket, Beckett, because I am one lucky guy. He might've followed her to me, which could've been the end. But not only did that not happen, but thanks to his research it looks like he took out Lisa, so maybe that case closes, too." Blowing out a long breath that clearly shows he was more worried about the Lisa Economides investigation than he let on, Castle brightens. "You were right, partner. It was a smart idea to have uniforms backtrack the key card. Best to leave us out of that end of things."

"It was a lucky guess," Beckett demurs. "Seems to be our lucky day."

"Both for getting and being," Castle agrees with a smile. "In fact," Castle drawls out, "I'm going to show you how lucky you are."

"Right here on my desk, huh?" Beckett asks with a smile and a flat tone. "I think someone might notice."

"That's not what I had in mind," Castle says with eyebrows perched high, "but it's much, much better than my idea. Another item for the list!" he says happily. "No, my idea is more boring but might be a better demonstration of exactly how deep in this I really am. Slide 'em over."

"What?" Beckett asks in confusion. "Castle, I am _not_ taking off my…"

"The pieces of today's paperwork paradise," he clarifies with a prim look. "Slide 'em over so I can reach."

 _You have_ got _to be kidding me. Now I really, truly, and completely believe in magic._

Beckett moves the stack warily, convinced that this is some kind of trick. It's only after Castle's plucked the sheet from the top and extracted his writing pen from the breast pocket of his blazer that she questions her good fortune. "No offense, Rick, but…"

"Don't worry, don't worry," Castle soothes as he starts writing on the form. "I'll adopt the most prosaic writing style I can imagine and write for an audience of disinterested simpletons."

"Your audience is the DA's office," Beckett challenges with a raised brow.

"That's what I said," Castle agrees, causing Beckett to merely shake her head.

They work steadily for the next hour, ignoring the many distractions the bullpen has to offer. The snickering from the boys ceased immediately after their chairs wobbled ominously as if ready to collapse, but Esposito still managed the courage to snap some pictures on his cell phone, texting at least one of them to Lanie.

Lanie, in turn, called Beckett in vain to see if she was free for lunch, since she could just 'leave the administrative work to her secretary.' The boys must've set this up with Lanie, as they were watching intently for some reaction from Castle with cellphone cameras at the ready. Instead of crowing, though, they both a looked a little ill when Castle's reaction was a delighted smile, followed by a "That gives me an idea…," before he leaned in to whisper to Beckett. Whatever he said had her blushing furiously and quickly convinced the boys to return to their own paperwork.

But, as has become usual lately, it was Gates who came out of nowhere to provide the biggest distraction. Looking up at another camera flash and expecting to see one of the boys with cellphone in hand, Beckett and Castle were instead surprised to see Gates inspecting her photo of a diligently working Castle. "Ha!" she said on the way to her office, "Weldon owes me fifty bucks."

"You ready for a lunch break?" Castle asks after sliding his last form across the desk for Beckett's review and signature.

"I'm ready for vacation, apparently," she replies, still looking in amazement at their stack of completed paperwork. "What am I going to do this afternoon? I've never finished paperwork this quickly, and Gates has us riding desks until Espo's shooting is cleared."

"You're going to pine for me, obviously," Castle replies cheekily. "Gourmet family meals don't just cook themselves, you know."

 _A girl could get used to this kind of treatment – spine-melting sex, coffee delivery, paperwork help, then a home-cooked meal? I must've done something right._

"Well, if we're looking at haute cuisine this evening, perhaps I could tempt you to accompany me to a food truck for lunch?" Beckett invites as she pulls her pocketbook from her desk and stands in preparation to leave.

"Detective," Castle growls in a low purr, "You can tempt me to do just about anything."

 _Trust me, I plan to thoroughly test that theory._

Barely tamping down her instinct to reach out for his arm, Beckett rounds into position beside him and knocks shoulders to signal her happiness and her desire to go.

"So, where we going for lunch?" Ryan asks as he notices them, standing quickly to pull on his blazer.

 _Oh, damn. Not today, Ryan._

"Ah, Kevin,…" Castle starts to say before Esposito interrupts.

"Dude, sit your ass back down," he instructs his partner. After a quick look around to ensure that there's no one else within earshot, Esposito chastises Ryan. "This is still new – 'they need occasional reprieves to build intimacy as their relationship grows,'" he says as if this should be obvious.

"Thanks, Javi," Beckett says in surprise, escorting Castle to the elevator while Ryan sputters about his partner's thievery.

"Can we eat in the park?" Beckett asks shyly, surprising Castle as they depart the building.

"Sure," he agrees readily. "If that's okay with you. It's not exactly a dimly-lit corner booth though, Kate. Someone might see us."

 _Always looking out for me. You ready for a surprise, partner?_

"Don't tell me that the playboy author who lived on Page Six when I met him years ago is afraid of a little attention?" she teases in response. Noticing his surprised look, she decides to drop the humor and answer him honestly. "I don't care, Rick. Let them look. Let them see."

"But, Gates…," Castle starts.

"Can blow it out her ass," she answers roughly, leaving Castle looking even more surprised. "I'm not hiding this, Rick. She didn't have the clout to kick you out before, and since then you've proved yourself a valuable asset. _You saved us_ , remember. For that alone I don't think she'd try anything," she says, drawing them both to the terrifying hostage situation where Esposito learned about some of Castle's abilities.

Still too surprised to speak, Castle simply reaches out and threads his fingers through hers. Her heart nearly bursts to see the small, contented smile that he just can't contain.

"And, Rick?" she asks as they approach the side-street where several food trucks have managed to secure a temporary places from which to do business. "I need you to know that _if_ Gates makes a fuss and _if_ the Commissioner and Mayor agree with her, it won't matter. We're good together. If the NYPD can't see that or doesn't want to benefit from it, I suspect there's a long list of others who will. I bet Palo Alto would jump at the chance to have us, or Boston. If Alexis chooses Oxford, though, we might have to come up with a plan B."

 _I'd still like to finish mom's case before we leave, though. We need to talk about that._

Forget a gentle smile of contentment, Castle's so filled with emotion right now that it's literally leaking from him, which he tries to hide by using the back of his free hand to wipe his cheeks. Her attentiveness to Alexis, on top of her commitment to them, is just too much for him.

"Not Boston," he mumbles. "For someone who seemed like a pretty sharp guy, Sorenson made the mistake of a lifetime and I'm not giving him a chance to recover."

Pivoting in front of him and using her free hand to push on his sternum and stop him, Beckett looks her partner in the eyes. "We could live in the same building and it wouldn't matter," she says in serious reply to his joking statement. "Will, Kyra, Meredith, Tom, Gina, Josh, none of them matter. You know that, right?"

"I do," Castle says quietly, surprised by this version of Beckett who seems so willing to reassure him of their path forward.

"Now who's getting ahead of himself?" she teases as she begins to move forward again, tugging him into motion. "You have to ask the question before you make the vow, Rick."

* * *

 **Castle**

Balling up the aluminum foil in which his sandwich had been wrapped, Castle considers taking a 20-foot shot to the nearest trashcan but decides against showing a lack of athletic prowess with his partner sitting on the bench pressed to his side.

"How'd you do the thing in Diane's apartment?" Beckett asks, catching him off guard.

 _This isn't going to go over well._

"I just looked for a pipe that appeared ready to crack and gave it some help," Castle says with a shrug. "Don't worry, both the super and Diane have been the lucky recipients of unexpected windfalls that will more than cover the costs of their inconvenience."

"Not that Diane will notice," Beckett says sadly, though she's still impressed with Castle's focus on taking care of people.

"No," Castle says with a sigh. "Poor girl's had a rough go of it – lost her sister and then a murderer was killed in her apartment."

"Even if terrible, she got some closure and has a chance," Beckett answers, looking for some silver lining.

"Maybe," Castle answers contemplatively.

"But, back to her apartment – are you telling me," Beckett asks, scooting away from him on the bench so she can spin towards him and look at him more easily, "that you could see the pipes through the walls?"

 _Better keep this playful._

Answering with a shrug, Castle's unusually low-key about this development.

"Seriously? X-ray vision?" Beckett asks. "Wait a minute – this is like the time at the Haunt where you started the music with a remote control but made me think you did it by yourself. I'm not falling for that trick again," she challenges.

 _I'll pay for this later but it'll still be totally worth it._

"Kate, I can prove it with two words," Castle answers with his own tone of challenge and mischievous look.

"'Wishful thinking?'" Beckett suggests. "'Voyeuristic tendencies?' 'Prepubescent fantasy?'"

Shaking his head but looking delighted at her suggestions, he gives her a wink and says "Front clasp."

"What do you mean…" Beckett starts to ask before suddenly blushing and slapping his shoulder. "Castle!" she chastises. "That's.. that's not… That's an answer based on insider information, you cheat."

 _You're adorable when you're flustered._

"No, no," Castle sing-songs in response. "You shooed me out of the room so you could get dressed without distraction, remember?" Her deepening blush proves that she does.

"And the electricity webs you used on him," Beckett asks, trying to get on firmer ground, "that's how you found his nexus, right?"

"Yep," Castle answers, allowing the diversion with good grace. "My guess is that unless Gammas have trained themselves to be more discreet, they'll subconsciously protect their nexus, first. Even if they don't know about any potential tactical liabilities from the nexus, they'll protect it as the place that makes them special."

"So, you were watching to see where the first web dissolved," Beckett traces out the theory, "then focused on that location with the second web."

Nodding, Castle agrees. "I'll show you how to do it, but this also means that we need to train our reactions to protect ourselves, too."

"How do you do these things?" Beckett asks, sounding upset. "I'm _still_ having trouble with most of the things we've tried and you just keep coming up with new discoveries."

 _Come on, Beckett, you'll conquer this just like you conquer everything else._

"I stole the electricity thing from Cali. As for the thing with the pipes… I'm sorry I didn't tell you at her apartment," Castle answers, "but it just seemed like something we should be able to do, so I gave it a try. I know you're upset about your block right now. I'd planned on jamming the toilet or busting the pipes under the sink. But it was as if I knew what to do once we got there, back before the vigil started."

Annoyed by her lack of progress on the learning front and irritated by her emotional reaction, Beckett almost doesn't let Castle pull her into his side, an arm around her shoulders and his head tilted to lean against hers. "You have a theory, don't you?" Beckett asks, relaxing into him. "About me. About why I'm having trouble."

"Three," Castle answers softly. "The first isn't very satisfying. It's less of a theory and more of a reminder that we don't know what I did to you back at Roy's funeral. Maybe I did something wrong or the transfer was incomplete. This could easily be my fault."

"Yes, Rick, it's your fault that I'm alive, curled into the love of my life," she says with loving impatience. "Next theory."

 _The love of your life?_

"My second theory is a little more reasonable," he says with a stumble while trying not to fixate on her words of endearment, "and relies on well-established and voluminously documented pyscho-social archetypes."

"Really," Beckett says flatly, knowing Castle well enough to know that he's building up to a ridiculous conclusion.

"Yes, really," Castle answers, all wide-eyed innocence. "Theory two is that I'm Green Lantern and you're Wonder Woman. Wait, wait, wait, hear me out," Castle asks, seeing Beckett about to cut him off. "This isn't some bedroom fantasy, though I'll be happy to talk about that later. But Green Lantern's all about coming up with crazy ideas to solve problems, while Wonder Woman is much more direct."

"I'll pass on theory number two," Beckett says while turning her head to plant a kiss on Castle's cheek. "Though we'll revisit the possibility of patriotic bustiers and a golden lasso. And I'm _definitely_ going to see that fantastic ass of yours in spandex."

 _I guess dinner will be late – I've got some shopping to do!_

"Did I say I only had three theories?" Castle asks with an interested look. "I meant ten. Twenty. A plethora of theories we should discuss."

With a light elbow to his ribs, Beckett nudges him back on track. "Theory three of many," he relents. "Being a Gamma plays to my strengths more than yours."

"What do you mean?" Beckett asks.

"It's like the way we come at a new case: You look at the evidence and try to figure out the motive, while I look at the motive and try to find the evidence. Wait, no," Castle pauses, "that's not right. That makes me sound like I'm selectively noticing evidence. Let me try this again, outside of the context of the casework."

Castle pauses, allowing Beckett a chance to tease him about his misstep, but continues when she puts her hand on his knee with a gentle squeeze instead.

"Maybe it's like this," he tries again. "With the powers available to us, I assume we can do anything. My challenge is to find the right way to accomplish something. You seem to assume that we can't do anything, so your challenge is to find the exception that allows something to happen."

"So, I'm a poor Gamma because I'm too inhibited?" Beckett asks, feeling hurt.

 _Nice explanation, jackass. Gotta fix this._

"First," Castle says earnestly with a squeeze to her shoulder. "Having seen you in action, 'inhibited' is a word I'd never use to describe you. Second," he moves on quickly, noticing that Beckett doesn't seem to want to joke about bedroom antics right now, "you're not a poor Gamma. It's just going to take some time to get used to what you can do. And it's not like I'm always going to be right – there will certainly be times when I'll fail because something simply can't be done."

"Maybe," Beckett concedes, buying time to think about this theory.

"Imagine we were orphans," Castle tries again, his trouble articulating this theory encouraging him to take a risky premise given their fraught parental issues. "One day, a harried courier arrives with news. The director tears open a letter that says we're royalty," he says with a voice slipping into storytelling mode. "Different houses, of course, because I'd still be in love with you even if I was only 12."

"And I was an infant?" Beckett challenges a weak point in the story.

 _Thanks for that. Good to see some feistiness, though._

"I'm being romantic," Castle huffs, "I'm allowed a little creative license. _Anyway_ , the director calls us in and reveals the news. I'd say 'Ha! I always knew it!' But you'd say 'You're deluded, where's the evidence?'" he theorizes, and Beckett laughs, imagining her twelve-year-old self saying exactly that. "That's all this is," Castle says lightly, "we've found out that we're royalty of a sort. Since I've always suspected so, it's easier for me to accept."

"So, theory three is that your enormous ego makes this an easier transition for you. Why didn't you just say so?" Beckett summarizes. "That makes complete sense."

 _There's the pithy explanation I couldn't find._

"An admirably concise summary," Castle grumbles, while Beckett laughs and kisses his cheek again.

"Thank you, Rick," Beckett says gently. "I don't know if you're right, but I do feel better about how things are going. And don't think that I'm criticizing your teaching – you've been wonderfully patient."

"You've been teaching me for years," Castle replies as he extricates himself to stand, pausing to hold out a hand to help her rise from the bench, "if not always patiently. It's the least I can do."

"Trust me," Beckett says as she stands, "I'm entirely sure that any objective observer would consider my patience remarkable given what I had to put up with."

 _What? Please. I was a model consultant._

"It's a good thing I was trying to behave," Castle says happily as they begin to walk back to the precinct. "Who knows what would've happened otherwise?"

"'Trying' being the operative word," she laments with a shoulder bump.

"What, you don't think I was well behaved?" Castle asks facetiously. "You never had to spank me, did you?"

"Did you ever stop to think, Rick," Beckett coos (while he thinks _No, not usually_ ), "that I might've been happy to spank you if you were a little better behaved?"

"But Kate," Castle replies in his own sexy tone, somehow managing to stay focused despite the image she implanted in his imagination, "I know you like the bad boys."

"Just one in particular," she says with a laugh, reveling in how good it feels to tease and play like this, even after they've come together. It thrills her to realize that her worry that their relationship would soften or grow stale without the spark of unconsummated desire looks unfounded. "Though I hear he's reformed."

 _Finally._

"The long search is over at last," he says in a soft tone, deftly switching from joking to sincere. They're still far enough away from the precinct to avoid a major scandal, so Beckett rises quickly to dust a kiss to his cheek.

"Speaking of searching," she asks with a piercing look while returning to the x-ray topic, "do I need to start looking for lead underwear?"

"Definitely. You _definitely_ need to go shopping for lingerie," Castle agrees readily, nodding so vigorously that Beckett wonders how he can walk in a straight line. "I'd better help. You know, just to make sure I can't see anything I shouldn't."

"And I'm sure you'll be completely honest, right, Castle?" she asks with another bump.

"Of course," he vows. "If you're nervous, I'll teach you the trick. It's only fair," he says piously.

"You just like the idea of me checking you out," Beckett replies with another eye roll.

"Of course I do," Castle says happily. "I'd happily walk around in the buff to catch your eye."

"I'd have to arrest you for indecent exposure," says Beckett with a leer.

"Naked and cuffed," Castle muses. "Win-win."

"How about this," Beckett proposes. "We'll try that out later, where no onlookers would get a free show," she promises. "But tell me how you do this vision thing."

"It's about layers," Castle says.

"Obviously," Beckett replies while pulling quickly on the front of her shirt.

"Not those layers," Castle replies. "Well, yeah, maybe those layers, too. But I was thinking about old-school cartography."

"I tug on my shirt and you think of old maps?" Beckett asks incredulously. "Didn't take long to lose its luster, then?"

 _I think I'll get tired of that right after I get tired of breathing._

"You have never said anything more ridiculous in your life," Castle replies, refusing to be baited. "Now don't distract me, I'm trying to teach here."

"Yes, sensai," Beckett says seriously. "So, old maps?"

"Cartographers think in layers," Castle says, "according to a map guy I know. Yes," he says with a laugh, "I know a map guy. Anyway, start with the outline of a territory – that's the first layer. Then add a layer with geographic features like mountains and rivers. Next layer, internal boundaries. Next, roads. And so on. Once all the layers are there, you've got a full map. The x-ray thing is just that in reverse – peeling back the layers to try to work down to the last one. You don't really see through the layers, but you can separate them, notice underlying details."

"See, this is what's frustrating," Beckett complains as she looks at him. "You make it sound so easy."

"We just need to practice," Castle soothes. "And trust me, I'm looking forward to this practice session."

"Tonight?" Beckett asks playfully. "Before… before we shed the extra layers?" she asks wickedly.

"Absolutely," Castle answers as they round the corner to approach the front entry of the precinct. "After dinner?"

"That's right," Beckett says happily, "I remember someone mentioning a family dinner. If you think that'll work with Alexis, I'm all for it."

 _Thank you for asking. Now it's my turn._

"Alexis'll be fine," Castle reassures her. "We're letting her see more of us just being normal, loving people, right? Dinner's just part of the deal. Although," he draws out as they stop in front of the precinct where Castle prepares to take his leave. "I'd like to make one change that might make it a little less normal compared to what we're used to now but more like what I'd like to see in the future. Can we invite your dad?"

* * *

A/N2: A longer chapter this week. I thought about breaking the last section off, but it might be a little while before I can post again, so I included it. Much of this week was lost to a collapsed roof, and next week has holiday travel (and learning how to install drywall), so writing time is feeling the pinch. For those of you who read it, I'm also thinking about a follow-up chapter to Her Own Worst Enemy, but I won't let it slow down this story.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: I guess Thanksgiving has me in the mood for family dinners. Whatever the reason, this chapter exploded. Here's the first half of the family dinner teed up in the previous chapter. I hope to have the second half up tomorrow or Friday.

More notes below.

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" _Alexis'll be fine," Castle reassures her. "We're letting her see more of us just being normal, loving people, right? Dinner's just part of the deal. Although," he draws out as they stop in front of the precinct where Castle prepares to take his leave. "I'd like to make one change that might make it a little less normal compared to what we're used to now but more like what I'd like to see in the future. Can we invite your dad?"_

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

"Hi, dad," Beckett says as she opens her apartment door to her father. As he steps over the threshold, he's surprised by the fierce hug from his daughter. "Thanks for coming over."

 _Oh, I've missed this._

"No problem, Katie," he replies with an extra squeeze before releasing her from the hug. "You look lovely. Was I supposed to dress up?" he asks, looking down to check the appropriateness of his clothes.

"You look great, dad," Beckett laughs. "Castle's dress code isn't as exacting as your law firm's."

 _But someone's dressing up…_

"But a step up from the precinct," he surmises, "since you had to change?"

Beckett blushes slightly at having been caught out by her father. "I just want to look nice," she says shyly.

"Why don't you tell me what's got you so nervous?" Jim asks gently. "There's got to be a reason we're meeting here rather than Rick's place, right?"

 _Don't look so surprised. At least some of your observational skills were picked up at home._

"Let's talk on the way? I don't want to be late," Beckett asks as she quickly checks her reflection in a mirror before grabbing a large pocketbook and a light coat. After escorting her father out of the apartment and toward the elevator, she chats about trivialities, leaving the big topic for the cab.

Once they've secured a taxi and are seated, Beckett turns to her father. "I'm in trouble, dad."

 _What? I thought things were going well. And if she's in trouble, why is she smiling?_

"So, I'm going to be a grandfather?" he asks curiously, trying to reconcile her admission with her demeanor.

"What? No!" Beckett replies as if scandalized. "I'm in love with Castle," Beckett confesses, looking at the hands clasped in her lap. When her father doesn't reply, she looks up and learns anew that her eye roll is an inherited habit.

 _My little detective._

"Shocking," Jim replies in a flat voice. "I suppose you're going to really knock my socks off by telling me he kind of likes you, too?" he asks, getting an eye roll in return. "Sorry, Katie, but this has been obvious for a while. Why is this 'trouble?'"

"Well, as a general rule, anything having to do with Castle is trouble," Beckett replies, wearing a secret smile. "It's just part of his nature. But, in particular, it's trouble because I'm really invested in this, dad. I really want this to work."

"I see," Jim says with false gravity, "but I'm still not sure what makes this a problem."

"Dad, I joked about _marriage_ today," Beckett offers as proof. "Not only did _I_ broach the topic, but I joked about it. With Castle! You can't tell me that isn't a surprise."

 _As if I didn't owe Rick enough already._

"Katie, you know how deeply I loved your mother, right?" Jim asks, invoking the spirit that makes the conversation instantly serious. "Do you know why our marriage was so wonderful, why it hurt so much to lose her?" he asks quietly.

 _I've never talked about this with you before. Not with anyone but my sponsor. I'm sorry, Katie, you should have heard this by now._

When Beckett stares openly at her father, he continues. "I just loved spending time with Johanna," he says as he glances at his daughter with a faraway look in his eyes. "You don't know how many of my colleagues talk about their marriages like an extension of the office, like an obligation that requires certain time commitments and compromises. That's not entirely wrong – marriage is hard work, and doing it right requires a lot of time and attention. But it needs to be more than that. It needs joy, laughter, comfort. Your mother… your mother brought that to our home. You've seen it. It might be hard to remember, after the way she was taken from us, but I think your heart recognizes it," he says as he reaches out and grasps her hand.

"I remember," Beckett replies softly with glassy eyes.

"So," Jim continues, "if you've found that feeling with Rick, I'm not surprised that you're joking about a future together. The only real surprise is that it took this long," he says with a little nudge of his elbow.

"I know," Beckett replies with a watery laugh. "We made some mistakes, suffered some setbacks. But we're together now, finally. We haven't been together long and we still have obstacles to overcome, but I think we can make this work."

"Of course you can," Jim agrees, "and I think you've been together for longer than you think, based on what I've heard from you over the years. But, I hope you're not considering me an obstacle. I know Rick joked about asking my permission, but I think you both know I'm very pleased that you seem so happy together."

"Thanks, dad," Beckett says, releasing his hand and instead grasping his upper arm and leaning her head into him. "I'm glad you're on our side."

"So, who isn't?" Jim asks, curious about the challenges that his daughter anticipates.

"Three people, I guess," Beckett says, tightening her grip on Jim's arm briefly as the cab takes a turn at an unwise speed. "Mom first."

"Katie, you know your mother would be thrilled that you found anyone who makes you happy, and that it's Rick Castle would've provided her with endless good humor," Jim replies, smiling at his imagined reaction to a conversation in which Katie could have introduced her boyfriend to her mother.

"I know she would've," Beckett agrees. "But I still want to find justice for her. I feel like I'm missing a part of my heart, like I can't love properly without giving her some peace."

"Katie," Jim says seriously, "I think you're wrong. Your mother would find the most peace in knowing that her daughter is whole and happy. Maybe you can have it all, but if you're asking me, I think your love is better focused on the living than the dead."

"I know you do, dad," Beckett says softly, "but this is something I need to do. But I'm trying to learn how to balance that with living my own life, too. It's a challenge. I've never thought about having a partner who could share this part of me. Castle can. I think it can work, but it'll be tough."

"I hope you're right, Katie," Jim says with a sigh. "We should talk about this again, but tell me what else you see as an obstacle to a future with Rick."

"My boss," Beckett replies, "or maybe regulations in general. Partners becoming involved is typically frowned upon, but our situation is unique because of Castle's status as a consultant. If Captain Gates wanted to make life difficult, she could."

"And if she does?" Jim asks, curious about his daughter's answer.

"Then we leave. We find someplace where we can do what we do so well together," she says simply.

"Which I'm sure your boss knows," Jim surmises. "You're good at what you do, Katie. I think you'll find that they will make things work to keep you. And if they can't or won't, then I'm sure someone else will."

"That's exactly what I told Castle today," Beckett says, smiling at the recollection.

"I bet he loved that," Jim laughs.

"He was a little shocked, to be honest," Beckett replies. "He's used to me fighting the idea of us. He's still getting used to me being our champion, to me fighting for us."

"Maybe he hasn't seen this side of you. But, Katie, I know how hard you'll fight once you've committed to something," he says, watching Beckett nod emphatically. "So, I expect he'll be glowing when we show up tonight?" Jim asks, chuckling as his daughter's blushing nod. "So, who's left as an obstacle?"

"Castle's daughter Alexis," Beckett says with a sigh. "This is really the reason I wanted to talk to you before we arrived tonight. There's _no one_ – including me – who's as important to Castle as his daughter."

"As a father, I can appreciate his feelings," Jim says, "though I'd encourage you to think about Rick loving her differently than you, not more. He might be some kind of gambler, but he hasn't had much of a poker face around me when you've been around. His feelings for you are perfectly clear."

Beckett blushes again, but manages to hold his glance this time.

 _You are so beautiful. Jo, look at our girl. Look at how happy she looks._

"He raised her himself, you know," Beckett says, providing some details about Alexis. "She's brilliant, beautiful, and fiercely protective of her father. And she's not especially impressed by me."

"You shouldn't be surprised," Jim says to the mild shock of his daughter. "Tell me this – if I told you that I met someone and wanted to date, how long would you hold out before doing a background check?"

"That's… I guess that's not really different," Beckett admits. "Except that in Alexis' case, she doesn't need to do a background check. Remember those mistakes and setbacks I mentioned? Alexis saw them when they happened."

"And what does Rick think?" Jim asks, curious about how directly her daughter has discussed this with her partner.

"He thinks she's wary, that she'll feel better about us if she can see us together, just being a normal couple," she replies.

"That sounds reasonable to me," Jim agrees. "So, is this where I come in? Has this all been a pep talk to make sure I behave myself tonight?" he asks mischievously, reminding Beckett of Castle.

"Oh, knock it off," Beckett grumbles. "I know you'll behave yourself, you always do. Except with yearbooks, I guess, you traitor," she glares while Jim chuckles. "I just wanted you to know the dynamics for tonight. I've never done the meet-the-parents thing before," she says with a blush as their cab pulls up outside of Castle's building.

"That's right, Rick's mother will be here tonight, too," Jim reminds himself. "Martha Rodgers, of Broadway fame. Any words of advice there?"

"Martha's something else. She's as expressive as you are quiet. Don't let her act fool you – she might play up the dramatic diva, but she's real. She's kind and she loves her family unreservedly, despite her penchant for ensuring that Castle's ego doesn't get out of control," she says with a smile as she holds the door open for her father. "She's been a good friend to me, and I think she's been holding out hope for Castle and me for a long time. Hi, Eduardo," she says as she waves to the security desk, getting a wave and a beaming smile in return.

"You seem comfortable here," Jim asks with a raised brow as Beckett pushes the button to call the elevator.

"Getting there," Beckett admits, skipping straight past the embarrassed denial as they enter the elevator car.

"Then we'll make sure tonight's dinner goes well," Jim encourages as he gives his daughter a quick hug and prepares to meet the Castle family.

* * *

 **Beckett**

Curious as to who'll open the door after their knock, a radiant smile blossoms on Beckett's face when it's Castle himself who receives them, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if too excited to stand still.

"Hey, Love," he says before she can utter a word, giving her a quick kiss and a warm hug. Pulling away with regret, he turns to Jim, whom he also welcomes with a hug.

"Jim, I'd like you to meet Martha Rodgers, my mother," he says with a nod to Martha, "and Alexis, my daughter." As Jim steps forward to greet each of them, Beckett watches the exchange and surmises that Castle must've also had a chat with his family. Martha looks fabulous as usual, though her ensemble is comprised of only two jewel tones, two-point-five below her usual quota. Alexis looks lovely in a green blouse and long, black skirt.

 _The lack of a scowl is the best part of Alexis' outfit._

"Katherine, dear, it's so good to see you again," Martha says as she catches Beckett deep in thought. During their brief hug, Martha whispers in her ear. "Relax, Katherine, tonight'll be fine. I even promised Richard that I wouldn't flirt with your father."

As a tension-breaker, the line is perfect, pulling an unexpected chuckle out of Beckett. When Martha pulls back from the hug and cuts a look at her, she can see where some of Castle's impish glint comes from. The moment of happiness leaves her unprepared, so she's surprised by the quiet "Hello, Kate," that comes from her right side.

 _She looks uncomfortable, but at least she called me Kate. Baby steps._

Knowing that a hug wouldn't be welcome, Kate reaches a hand out to Alexis. Looking relieved that there's no hug coming but confused by the hand gesture, Alexis reaches out as if to shake hands, but Beckett instead clasps her hand and applies a gentle squeeze. "Hello, Alexis. Thank you for welcoming me into your home."

Alexis's expression is hard to decipher – she looks a little puzzled and a little closed off. But Beckett's greeting was warm and genuine, apparently providing Alexis with something to think about. As Beckett turns, she can't help but notice that both Castle and her father, who'd been chatting together after walking into the kitchen, are giving her quick, encouraging looks.

 _Conspiring together already. Just like I said in the car – trouble._

A few minutes later, Castle ushers everyone to the table by reminding them that this isn't a fancy holiday dinner, but instead just a casual evening to spend time together. Belying his words and showing that he's a bit nervous about this evening, Castle struggles to light the candles that clearly wouldn't be on the table for an ordinary, casual dinner. After breaking his fourth match while trying to light the long tapers, he sighs, gives Beckett a quick wink, then steps back as the candles all spark to life simultaneously. Castle's family doesn't react until Jim offers a small huff of a laugh, which serves to lighten the mood.

Castle pulls up a seat at the head of the table, with Alexis on one side and Beckett on the other. Jim sits next to his daughter and Martha next to her granddaughter, so the elders are seated across from each other. _I bet he planned that out, too._ The conversation while they serve themselves dinner is a little stilted, but it's clear that the adults are trying to make sure the dinner goes well. As for Alexis, she's as quiet as Beckett can ever remember her being, though she does chime in occasionally, especially with Jim and Martha.

"So," Castle breaks into the general discussion before they tuck into their food, "I know we said this is an ordinary dinner, and I hope we can have more meals like this," he says with a cheerful smile, though Beckett notices that Alexis doesn't look especially happy about this as her eyes fall down to her plate. "But, we do have a couple of things to celebrate tonight. Pumpkin," he says, causing Alexis to look up in alarm, clearly worried about what kind of 'celebratory announcement' her father's going to make, "I know you don't like to hear all of the details about what happens at the precinct, but I know you were worried about our current case."

"You mean the one with the…," she trails off, cutting her eyes to Jim.

"The one with the killer who was hunting Gammas here in the City," Castle confirms. "We closed that case yesterday, safely and quietly."

Alexis nods, taking this in, but not looking as relieved as they'd hoped she would. Castle, undeterred, pushes on. "There's more good news, right, Jim?"

 _Totally conspiring. Why don't I know about this?_

"There is," Jim confirms with a nod. "I had a little health scare recently," Jim confides to Martha and Alexis. "The rest of my lab tests came in this week and they're all clear. I'm as healthy and safe walking around the city as an old man could hope to be."

 _They definitely planned this. Dad wouldn't share his medical information with others this freely if he and Castle hadn't already talked. I'm going to have to watch those two._

Beckett turns quickly to her father and gives him a quick, awkward hug. Even though she strongly suspected that he was fine, that their terrible time on the water had healed him, this final confirmation leaves her feeling teary and vulnerable. It's an uncomfortable situation with Alexis seated directly across from her, so she seeks solace in her father's embrace for just a few moments.

Finally pulling away, she gives her father a weak swat on the shoulder. "You could have told me when you found out," she complains. "This didn't have to be so dramatic."

"Oh, leave the poor man alone, Katherine," Martha scolds with good humor. "There's nothing wrong with good drama, especially in this home," she says as she lifts her glass in toast. "Jim, congratulations," she says warmly.

 _I'm starting to understand what Castle means when he complains about being ganged up on at home._

As they all return their glasses to the table following the salute to Jim, Martha keeps talking. "Well, as long as we're talking about drama, we should talk about another bit of good news." Beckett notices that Castle looks surprised, so this part of the evening clearly wasn't set up. "I am _thrilled_ to share that after years of delusion and denial, my son and his muse have finally awoken to the fact that they are good together. As I'm fond of saying, Richard, I told you so," she boasts as she again lifts her glass. Looking quickly, Beckett sees that Castle's as red as she is. Reaching out to clasp his hand, they share a quick, intense look before lifting their glasses to join the toast. Alexis joins the toast, still quiet and contemplative but looking at Beckett differently after seeing her hug Jim.

With the dinner kicked off, they all turn to the feast that Castle put together during the afternoon. Before taking a bite, Beckett takes a moment to look around the table and appreciate the moment. Next to her sits her father, healthy after facing an undisclosed terminal condition. On her other side sits Castle, the infuriating man-child who's saved her life more times and in more ways than he knows, who loves with such abandon, who captured her heart completely. And on the other side of the table sits Castle's family, the redheaded support system that's helped keep this unusual little family so strong.

 _Castle's right. It would be wonderful if this dinner is a peek into what we could become._

Lifting a bite to her mouth, Beckett catches Castle looking at her with a soft smile and softer eyes. Unable to stop herself, she reaches out again for a quick clasp of hands, anxious to share their connection.

Castle's about to say something to her when a knock on the loft's door draws his attention. With brows furrowed, he excuses himself, deftly standing and placing his napkin on the seat of his chair as if worried that a waiter might clear his spot while he's away.

Turning to join her father's conversation with Alexis and Martha, Beckett drops her fork when she feels a bolt of panic through her connection with Castle. Standing quickly and reaching out of habit for a service weapon that's locked up at home, she draws the attention of the other three at the table but doesn't stop to explain herself as she strides towards the door to the loft. Castle comes into view first. Her long experience with him lets her recognize the tension pouring from him. A few more steps reveal that the threat is less lethal than feared, if no less serious.

Approaching from behind him, Beckett reaches out to rub Castle's back as she steps into place beside him. "Hello, Meredith. This is quite a surprise."

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

The commotion at the front door has those seated at the table looking up and ignoring the food. When Castle and Beckett step back into view with Meredith in tow, Alexis groans and her head droops immediately while Martha takes a deep breath after muttering " _Now_ she shows a sense of timing," under her breath.

 _This must be Alexis' mother. If Rick doesn't understand how hard Katie will fight for something, I wonder if his ex-wife will be surprised?_

After standing from their dinner positions, Jim comes around the table to approach the new arrival. After she steps away from a hug with Alexis, the woman turns to Jim and wraps him in a hug. His shock must look comical, since Martha is smirking at him, but Beckett just gives a befuddled shrug. Jim makes no effort to lift his arms and join the embrace, waiting patiently for this woman to release him.

Castle steps forward after a moment to hasten Jim's release. "Jim, I'd like you to meet Meredith Harper, my first wife and Alexis' mother." Though clearly disconcerted by this turn of fate, Rick's a gracious host, trying to smooth the waters in what might be a bumpy encounter.

"Ms. Harper, it's a pleasure to meet you," Jim says as he steps away, finally pulling free of Meredith's grasp. "I'm Jim Beckett, Kate's father," he says with a proud nod to Beckett. Happily, while Jim was being accosted, Beckett took the opportunity to step into Castle's side, providing the picture of a happy couple. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Thank you, Jim," Meredith replies, reaching out to touch his arm in return for his comment. "Don't believe anything you hear from the media," she says with a dramatic eye roll, "Hollywood rumors are the worst and writers," she says while casting a look at Castle, "like to exercise their imaginations."

 _Well, Katie, you wanted me here to help tonight. Let's see about keeping Ms. Harper in check, shall we?_

"Oh, I heard about you from my wife," Jim clarifies. "She was Rick's biggest fan, used to drag me to the bookstore to pick up his latest novel and kept me well apprised of everything she heard about him."

"How sweet," Meredith replies, a little upset that Jim's knowledge of her is reflected from her association with Castle than from her work as an actress.

"So, Meredith," Martha cuts in, trying to direct the flow of the conversation. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, I just missed my baby," Meredith replies with a doting smile, swanning over to Alexis to rub her blushing cheek. "We got on so well during her recent visit that I missed her terribly. Since I'm between shoots, I thought I'd come for a visit, make sure she's okay."

"Did you just arrive?" Beckett asks solicitously with a look toward the table.

"Of course," Meredith agrees. Her tone of voice is warm but the look she shoots at Beckett clearly implies that the question was ridiculous. "I couldn't wait to see my baby."

"Mom, stop it," Alexis murmurs, her head uncharacteristically bowed.

"You're welcome to stay, Meredith," Castle says while gesturing to the table. Meredith's smile is still unfurling when Castle finishes speaking. "For dinner."

 _There's the sense of timing that Martha mentioned._

Shooting a look at her luggage next to the loft's door, Meredith looks like she's going to argue, but then her visage clears as she instead gives Alexis another dramatic hug, clearly opting to leave this topic for later.

 _This woman is an actress? I wonder if she's always this transparent._

As a bit of a side player in this drama, Jim backs out of the group in order to turn his attention back to the dinner table. While the others are talking and beginning the process of returning, he deftly begins to move Martha's place setting to the foot of the table.

"Great minds think alike," Martha whispers to him as she arrives with another place-setting. The table is reset just as the others arrive. Beckett, noticing the new arrangement, gives her father a grateful look and casts Martha a quick wink. Meredith slips happily into her seat, perhaps thinking that space was made to allow her to sit next to her daughter. If she recognizes the conspiracy that ensured she wouldn't take a seat often associated with one of the heads of household, she doesn't show it. In fact, the only one who shows some discomfort at this new arrangement is Alexis.

"This smells wonderful, Richard," Meredith coos. "Of course, I can only have a few bites or my personal trainer will never let me hear the end of it," she sighs dramatically. "It's a good thing you didn't know how to cook like this when we were together or I'd never have gotten myself, or my career, off the ground," she chuckles. "Why is it," she continues, turning to Beckett, "that men always go through a self-improvement kick _after_ a relationship ends?"

"I've enjoyed learning how to cook," Castle says, taking up the topic without reacting to the references to their past together. "If anyone gets the credit for how things have gone, though, it's Alexis. She had to suffer through some pretty bad meals before I started to get the hang of things."

 _Nicely done, Rick. Just keep your eyes the horizon. My Katie's invested in this, so things will work out just fine if you stick together._

"It wasn't the learning process, Dad," Alexis answers, sounding a little bit more like herself. "It was the experimentation! Some things are just never meant to go together."

"Like what?" Jim asks curiously while Beckett and Martha both shake their heads in an effort to shut down this conversation.

"Like chocolate and eggs," Alexis answers, causing some flinches around the table. "Peanut butter and jalapeños. Potato chips and ice cream."

"Now you're just being mean," Castle objects with a pout. "I'll bet that I could use any or all of those ingredients to make a meal that you'd all love," he boasts before looking dismayed that no one's taking him up on the offer.

"Nice try, Castle," Beckett says with a teasing look on her face, "maybe if you're really good I'll let you tempt me with one of your creations."

"Kate, no," Alexis objects. "Trust me, you really don't want to do that."

 _Ah, a little concern from Alexis. Meredith doesn't look very happy about that._

"Oh, honey, Richard's experimentation started well before you joined us," Meredith says with a lusty look, causing Martha to sputter into her glass and Jim to redden slightly. Alexis, alternatively, looks a little ill. "I'm talking about coffee, obviously," Meredith clarifies with a saucy, exaggerated wink. Turning to Beckett, she lobs another serve. "You're a coffee drinker, right? Rick used to spend so much time on my coffee, making it a little ritual just for us. I still think of that every time I have nutmeg in my coffee," Meredith offers with a wistful sigh.

 _Even I know how important coffee has been to Katie and Rick, and I suspect you've heard about that, too. Let's redirect this conversation._

Before Castle or Beckett can comment, Jim steps into the breach. "My Jo used to do that for me sometimes. It's an interesting taste. I don't have it often, though – it always seems like a seasonal treat."

"Like pumpkin spice," Martha laments, joining the conversation after giving Jim a sly wink and continuing to steer the talk away from the past shared by Castle and Meredith. "It's an absolute menace. For two months of the year I can't order anything to eat or drink without defending against the effort to poison it with pumpkin spice. Some young man even tried to tempt me with a pumpkin spice merlot," she shudders with a moue of distaste.

"That sounds wonderful," Meredith answers, causing some surprised looks. "Not the pumpkin spice, but the merlot. Richard, would you be a dear and pour me a glass?"

"I'm sorry, Meredith," Castle replies. "We're not drinking tonight. But, I'd be happy to get you coffee, iced tea, or maybe a seltzer water?"

"Not drinking?" Meredith sputters, unable to process the notion. "Don't tell me you're a teetotaler on top of everything else," she says to Beckett.

' _On top of everything else,' eh? Someone's been hearing things about my Katie._

Jim's about to apologize, to encourage the others to drink, when Castle catches his eye before replying to Meredith. "Mere, tonight's dinner is just a casual night in, a chance to bask in the company rather than the drink."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day you turned down a drink," Meredith replies with a perched brow, looking at Martha after first sizing up Castle.

"Sometimes the company provides all the stimulation I need," Castle answers simply, chancing a quick look at Beckett to see her smiling in return.

 _Very clever, Rick – emphasize how different things are now. Every variance reinforces the underlying point that things have changed._

"Well, from this side of the table it just sounds like you're getting old and boring," Meredith teases with a bite, failing to notice Martha's perched brow and flat look in response. "I remember some old times when a few drinks accentuated the company, and the activities…," she trails off with her own sly grin and glance at Beckett. Alexis' drooping head seems to catch her attention, reminding her of another argument. "Besides, you owe it to Alexis. If she goes off to college, you want her to be ready to hold her own with the frat boys, don't you?"

 _Poor Rick. First he has to deal with this on the meet-the-family night, and now she's talking about his daughter drinking with frat boys IF she goes to college? What'll she say next – that his hair is looking thinner these days? Or maybe that she's thinking about writing an autobiography?_

"Mom, we talked about this," Alexis says in a low but fierce voice. "I'm going to college."

"Of course you are, honey," Meredith soothes as if comforting a toddler. "But you've already worked so hard. Don't you want to take a break? I'm sure I could get you an internship at one of the studios. You'll love LA – it'll be just like last week, but for a whole year!" Meredith says enthusiastically, missing Alexis' look of panic. "And if things work out, you don't need a college degree to act!"

Castle's a good enough actor himself that a bystander might think he's taking the high road and letting mother and daughter sort this out by themselves. Beckett, though, recognizes that his silence actually indicates a pitched internal battle, his desire to let his daughter carve her own path warring ferociously with his desire to provide guidance, especially in the face of his ex-wife's terrible advice. Carefully, Beckett tries to help.

"My cousin's daughter is thinking about taking a gap year," Beckett says delicately, seeming to validate the notion of a break before starting college. "I've heard that it's a little more common now than it was when we were in school," she says, noticing that both Castle and Alexis are watching her carefully to see where this is going but confident that she's not agreeing with Meredith. "But, my understanding is that the safest route is still to apply to colleges before seeking deferred matriculation. After all, it's never easier to apply, and you never look as attractive as a student, as when you're in your senior year."

 _Perfect, Katie, perfect. You recognized Meredith's point without flatly rejecting it, but provided Alexis a good reason to go ahead with her college applications. From the look on Alexis' face, your comments were greatly appreciated._

"Oh, you went to college?" Meredith asks Beckett, sounding surprised. "I thought cops – I mean officers – went to an academy or a trade school or something."

"I went to college," Beckett says, letting her simple reply address the implied slight in Meredith's question. "I started at Stanford before transferring back to New York."

"I've heard Stanford is difficult," Meredith sympathizes. "You shouldn't feel bad about needing to come back home."

 _Oh, no. You will_ not _disrespect my daughter._

"I was the one who had trouble, not Katie," Jim clarifies. "Katie was pulling straight As out there, despite some behavior that was wild enough for us to hear about it from 2,000 miles away," he says while Beckett blushes and takes a drink of water. Alexis, who'd looked slightly less uncomfortable after Beckett's initial comments, now looks almost as interested in the discussion as Castle. "My wife was killed during Katie's freshman year and I didn't take it well. She came back to help me," he confesses with a fond and apologetic look at his daughter. "Though I think she also missed her Harley," he adds to lighten the mood.

"See, Richard?" Meredith follows Jim's story by ignoring all but the last bit. "Your friend Kate had a motorcycle and you had such a fit about Alexis having a scooter. You're definitely getting old."

 _We're spending too much time on defense. Time to liven things up a little._

"Well, to be fair," Jim interjects to provide some cover for Castle, "Jo and I were opposed to the idea from the start and didn't contribute one cent to that two-wheeled death machine. Katie had to pay for the bike, the gear, and the insurance out of her modeling money."

"Dad!" admonishes a blushing Beckett. But it's too late now, the story is out and there is no way this crowd will let it pass without comment. It's hard to say who looks more interested to hear details – Castle, Alexis, or Martha – though Meredith doesn't look quite so keen.

"So," Castle asks first with a barely-contained sense of glee. "Modeling, huh? I didn't see anything about that in the yearbook."

 _Come on Katie, the poor guy needs a break after tonight._

"Oh, it's not in the yearbook, but I think we still have the photos," Jim begins to speak before his daughter abruptly cuts him off.

"Absolutely not," Beckett says imperiously, brooking no potential dissent. "Alexis, you can come over and see them sometime if you're interested, but there is no way I'll let these two hooligans be a part of it," she says while swiveling her head back and forth to send cutting looks to Castle and her father. In all her years, she had never appreciated exactly how much trouble it could be to have her father on friendly terms with her romantic partner, and she's desperately regretting that oversight now.

"Am I invited?" Martha chimes in from the end of the table. "We could make an outing of it."

"Tell you what," Beckett replies, casting Castle a teasing look. "Next time this one," she says with an indulgent nod to Castle, "has to go sign some books, we'll have a little party."

"So unfair," Castle grumps. "I guess I'll just have to use my imagination," he leers, before blushing with the sudden realization that Beckett's father is sitting right there.

 _Easy there, son. There's only so much I want to know on this front._

"Yes, you will," Beckett answers with a leer of her own. "Because only in your imagination will I show you those pictures."

 _Way to keep him in hand, Bug._

"I thought about modeling," Meredith interjects, rejoining the conversation that's run wild since her comments about college. "But, I just couldn't think of not acting," she laments importantly, her focus on Castle and the Becketts causing her to miss Martha's eye roll. "For whom did you model?" she asks Beckett, unable to contain her curiosity.

"Matilda King," Beckett answers quietly, looking as if she'd like to get off this topic.

"Matilda… why, Katherine, that's amazing! The stories you must know," Martha enthuses. "I've heard so much about her," she trails off while Alexis nods along.

"I wasn't in it for long," Beckett demurs, still embarrassed by the attention. "Modeling, even for Matilda, is a creepy business and I wasn't really comfortable with that crowd. You remember what it was like for that case we had, right Castle? So, I left as soon as I had enough for my bike. Trust me, riding a Harley is a hell of a lot safer than modeling," she ends with a little chuckle.

"Well," Martha says boisterously, "this talk of a certain model on a motorcycle seems to have rendered my son temporarily dazed and inarticulate. At least I hope it's temporary. Why don't we break for fifteen minutes while I clear up and get us ready for dessert and coffee?"

* * *

A/N2: The next chapter will pick up where this one leaves off. We've got a long drive today, so I might get it finished if my wife takes a turn at the wheel. Otherwise, I'll try to finish it tomorrow.

A few more notes:

For anyone who saw "Mr. & Mrs. Castle," did you notice where the initial scene was set? That might've been Pier 32! Definitely wasn't Jonas, though – that guy wasn't nearly gruff enough.

Speaking of Jonas, some of his personality and character is based on people I know (this is true of some other characters in my stories, like Fitz from Coming Clean). With some trepidation, I sent this story to one of those Jonas inspirations. The comment I got in return? "Needs more of Beckett in her hot western corset." That's generally true, though I'm not sure I see a place for that in this story.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Here's the second half of the family dinner. More below.

.

" _Well," Martha says boisterously, "this talk of a certain model on a motorcycle seems to have rendered my son temporarily dazed and inarticulate. At least I hope it's temporary. Why don't we break for fifteen minutes while I clear up and get us ready for dessert and coffee?"_

* * *

 **Pre-Dessert Conversation – Upstairs: Alexis**

"So, this is your room," Meredith says as she looks around. "It's so… schooly."

 _This from the woman encouraging me to skip college._

"Mom, I need you to stop," Alexis says seriously, leaning against her desk as she watches Meredith inspect the books and decorations around the room.

"I'm just looking, honey," Meredith replies, "trying to see what interests you."

"Not my room," Alexis clarifies with a touch of annoyance. "I need you to stop messing with Dad."

Meredith is the picture of wide-eyed innocence when she turns to face her daughter. "Honey, you know that I'm here for you."

 _It's been a very long time since I believed that._

"Mom, we both know that you're here to… I don't know what – check out Kate, stake a claim on Dad, something like that."

"Honey, you know that I'm here for you," Meredith starts, but then winds down in the face of Alexis' scowl. "Fine," she says instead. "I know how uncomfortable you are about Richard's… relationship and I wanted to come and see how bad it is for you. I'm glad I came," she says as she slides over to Alexis and rubs her arm. "It really is terrible, isn't it?"

"What?" Alexis says in surprise. "It's fine. Everything's fine."

 _Especially if we can stop talking about it._

"Oh, honey," Meredith sighs dramatically, "you don't need to put on a brave face for me. I don't know what your father is thinking. He usually goes for very feminine women, but this Kate is very mannish, don't you think?"

"What?!" Alexis says, shocked that of all the slights that could be pointed at Beckett, this is the direction Meredith chose. "She's gorgeous. And stylish."

"Maybe," Meredith says doubtfully, "but she's just the plain girl that makes herself prettier by picking ugly friends, right? She's a cop, for goodness sakes. She's surrounded by dirty criminals and fat, donut-chomping colleagues. It's not hard to stand out in that crowd."

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Alexis says with some dramatic flair of her own, "and mean. I don't understand you people – I've got enough things to worry about but everyone just assumes that I want to hear about Dad's love life. Well, I don't, especially not when it's just an excuse to cause trouble or be cruel."

For a diva, Meredith can move surprisingly fast, as Alexis learns when she tries to leave the room. "Alexis, honey, I'm sorry," she apologizes. _She's been here an hour and that's the first time she's actually used my name._ "We don't have to talk about Richard or that woman. We have a few minutes left before dessert," she soothes, rubbing Alexis' arm to calm her down. "Maybe we can talk about some else's love life…" she leads with an inquisitive look at her daughter.

"Mom…," Alexis trails off while pinching the bridge of her nose, no more comfortable with this topic than the last. _Why do we have to talk about relationships at all? Why can't we just talk about ourselves?_ "I just came back from California and you know nothing's going on right now."

"Not even after our talk?" Meredith replies in surprise. "You should have a flock of admirers by now!"

"I've been a little preoccupied," Alexis says, thinking about everything she's learned since her return to New York. "Maybe when things settle down," she says pointedly, though she knows her mother won't understand that the comment is pointed at her interference, "I can give it some thought."

"You should, honey, and don't wait," Meredith encourages. "In fact, let me tell you another little trick that I just learned," she cackles conspiratorially. "You wouldn't _believe_ what it did to my personal trainer…"

 _Please, Grams, call us down to dessert. Now!_

* * *

 **Pre-Dessert Conversation – Kitchen: Jim Beckett**

"Richard, get out of here," Martha admonishes her son. "You and Katherine have fifteen minutes to decompress before dessert. Use them well. Go on, scoot," she says as she pulls the dishes from his hands and takes them to the sink herself.

Torn between an acerbic comment and his desire to regroup before round two, Castle looks to Beckett.

"Go on, Katie," Jim agrees with a nod. "We'll clean up."

"Thanks, dad," Beckett says gently, leaning in to drop a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Come on, Castle," Beckett says as she reaches out a hand to pull him into the office.

 _Stick together, kids._

Once they've gone, Jim turns toward the table only to be stopped by Martha's hand on his arm.

"Thank you, Jim," Martha says earnestly. In the absence of an audience she seems less extroverted and ebullient, more like the concerned mother he thinks he can see beneath the façade. "Richard was so worried about our dinner tonight. He even sat down with me to co-opt my participation for the evening," she says with a laugh. "I thought he was going to have a coronary event when Meredith arrived unannounced." Her grimace at the mention of her former daughter-in-law is obvious, but she doesn't dwell on that topic. "You were so kind and helpful during the dinner – thank you."

 _Katie was right. The diva might be Martha's main act, but it's obvious that she loves her family, and that she includes Katie in that group._

"It was nothing," Jim demurs, slightly embarrassed. "Besides, Katie gave me the same talk on the way over here tonight," he chuckles.

"Really?" Martha asks as she releases his arm and moves toward the table to clear more dishes. "She should know she had nothing to worry about. We absolutely adore Katherine."

 _It's so odd to hear her called 'Katherine,' but it sounds natural coming from Martha._

"She was more nervous than I've seen her in a very long time," Jim muses as he picks up some dishes and moves toward the sink. "It was nice to see, actually. I've worried about her. She's chosen a hard life, developed a thick skin. I'm glad to see her breaking out of that mold a bit, having some fun. Your son's been good for her."

"Perhaps," Martha replies with a proud smile, "but your daughter has been an undeniably good influence on Richard. If your wife really did pay attention to Richard," she says with an inquisitive look, "then you know that my son has some colorful exploits in his past, not all of which were fabrications by the media. But since he wiggled his way into her precinct, he's been a changed man. Maturing," she chuckles, "if not yet actually mature."

Rolling up his sleeves while the sink fills with sudsy water, Jim pauses a moment. "I haven't spent much time with Rick yet," he says, dipping his hands into the water and setting to work. "But I've seen enough to know that he's a good man." He hands a plate to Martha, whose eyes look suspiciously glassy. "And I've heard _a lot_ about him over the years," he laughs. "Come to think of it, your theory of him maturing might match up with the change in Katie's description of him over the years."

"Our children certainly took a meandering path to each other, but they seem to have finally made it," Martha says with a tone of satisfaction, drying another dish. "I'm rooting for them. And I'm not interested in letting past mistakes," she says, cutting her eyes towards the luggage at the front door, "cause any problems."

"I'm rooting for them, too," Jim agrees with a soft smile. "But, I owe you a thank you, too," he continues, catching Martha by surprise. "During my talk on the way over, Katie mentioned that you've been a good friend to her, that you've supported her. It's been a long time since my Katie had a lady to help her. _Thank you_."

"Jim Beckett, you stop it this instant," Martha chastises through her sniffles, stepping into the lounge to draw a tissue to dab at her eyes. "I haven't cried in years," she complains, "and I'm certainly no _lady_ ," she objects with a watery chuckle. "Besides, Richard and Katherine will probably think the worst if they come out now and find me in tears."

"Switch spots with me," Jim suggests, "from what I've heard from Rick, he'll assume that the tears resulted from doing chores."

"You're terrible," Martha chokes on a laugh as she pretends to swat his shoulder. "Honestly," she says with another chuckle as she picks up her towel to dry the dishes he's washing. "But you're probably right."

* * *

 **Pre-Dessert Conversation – Office: Castle**

"Kate, I am so, so sorry," Castle grovels as soon as the door to his office is closed.

 _Of all the nights for Meredith to pull a Meredith, it just_ had _to be tonight._

"Hush, Rick," Beckett says gently as she leads him over to the plush loveseat. With a gentle prod, Castle takes a seat and Beckett crawls into his lap, straddling him. "This isn't your fault. If anyone's to blame, it's me."

"How do you figure?" Castle asks in confusion. Independent of the conversation, his hands are already rubbing Beckett's back of their own volition, renewing their physical connection even while they wrestle with fallout of tonight's surprise visitor.

"Once upon a time," Beckett begins with a small smile, enjoying the chance to start the storytelling, "Alexis liked me. But, based on how things developed between us, I gave her reason to doubt me, doubt that I could treat you well. If she were confident in me, she wouldn't have lamented our relationship when she was out in California and Meredith wouldn't be here."

 _Oh, Detective, if only that were the case._

"You don't know Meredith," Castle objects calmly. "She's not here because Alexis is uncomfortable with us. She's here because of you, because of us."

"What do you mean?" Beckett asks while idly playing with his hair. "Why now?"

"She's…," Castle starts before trailing off, trying to line up his explanation. "She knows how deeply I love you," he says, looking uncharacteristically shy. "She has for a long time. She enjoyed the notion of me on the outside looking in, waiting for something that wasn't going to happen. It made the other stuff easier. So, when she heard from Alexis that we were together, she had to come out to see for herself."

"Rick," Beckett interjects, "I don't want to break the flow, but come on, really? You're an author and I know you well. Do you really think I'll let you get away with a vague phrase like 'other stuff?' Spill."

 _I should've known you'd call me on that. The downside of being in love with an investigator, especially a well-read one!_

Shaking his head ruefully, Castle starts his explanation dangerously. "Do you remember your first introduction to Meredith?"

"You mean in our first year, when she visited and you hopped into bed with her because sex with crazy people is 'unbelievable?' Nope, don't recall that at all," she says with an eye roll and a flat voice.

 _God, I was an ass._

"Yeah, that," Castle agrees contritely. "Meredith comes around every once in a while, usually two or three times a year. But after that first time, nothing happened when she visited. You know enough about her to know that she wouldn't handle that well."

"But we weren't…," Beckett trails off, embarrassed. "We were both seeing other people."

"Yes, we were," Castle agrees, "sometimes. But I always nurtured a hope for us. And, despite the disaster with Demming and Gina, I always knew that Meredith would be the bigger threat to us. So, I stopped."

Rewarding his optimism and honestly with a long, sweet kiss, Beckett rests her forehead against his. "So, she's here to what – stake a claim? Cause some havoc?"

"At least the latter," Castle agrees with a huff. "I expect she's telling herself that she's here to make sure you're good for me, that Alexis will be okay. But Meredith is possessive in an odd way. I learned the hard way that Mere isn't big on fidelity. What she really believes in is opportunity. She'd be perfectly happy with me committing to anyone as long as she still had access."

"Just so you don't get any ideas…," Beckett starts to say in a fierce voice.

 _I'd like to be a fly on the wall when Meredith suggests that arrangement to Kate!_

"Don't," Castle interjects. "You don't have to say a thing. I put her off when I worried that we'd never be together. Now that we are? I won't even joke about it. You know, or you should know, that this is it for me, Kate. _You're_ it for me."

"I know," Beckett whispers before she kisses him again. "And you should know that you're it for me, too."

 _Is it 'sooner' yet?_

"I know," Castle repeats her words, and her kiss. "And I think Meredith does, too. So, we'll weather this storm and – sorry for this – the likelihood of occasionally annoying but transparent attempts to shake things up, and we'll go forward together."

"I feel bad for her, actually," Beckett says after a few minutes of enjoying their embrace. At Castle's inquisitive noise, she explains. "I don't like her interference, her presumption, or her timing. But, she's had a rough evening. I can't imagine that she expected to walk into such a – well, not exactly a hostile environment, but one that isn't very responsive to her."

"You're a remarkably compassionate woman, Kate Beckett," Castle says with a proud smile.

"I'm a gracious winner," she replies cheekily. "Now, come on," she says as she stands and holds out a hand to help him up. "The evening's not over yet and my compassion may yet be tested."

Castle lets Beckett pull him up, but he exaggerates as if Beckett's strength sent him lurching forward, crashing into her and wrapping her tight.

"Oaf," she cajoles with a laugh as she wraps her arms around him.

"We're going to have to repeat this dinner," Castle says into her hair, still holding her tight but starting to sway as if dancing to an internal soundtrack.

"Why?" Beckett whispers in reply, following the movements of his body. "I'm not disagreeing, but I think this dinner has actually gone really well. Meredith's appearance seems to have done more to connect our parents than we could've hoped otherwise."

"Exactly," Castle agrees. "We need another dinner to thank them. Your dad has been fantastic, Kate," he says in a tone of true admiration, causing Beckett to blush and lighten her concern about their collusion by a degree. "And Mother… Mother must really adore you. She's doing housework!"

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Were you really dancing in there?" Martha asks as Beckett arrives next to her at the counter to help carry the dessert plates to the table. Noticing Beckett's blush, Martha chuckles. "Remember, it's just a bookshelf, not actually a wall. Better to be caught dancing than something else…," she laughs again at Beckett's deepening blush.

 _Right. I've gotta remember that. Next time we 'dance,' it needs to be in Rick's bedroom._

"Sorry," Alexis apologizes from the other side of Beckett. "I was just surprised when I noticed it. I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's okay," Beckett mumbles, "we were just trying to relax a little."

"I can't imagine why," Martha says facetiously, and Beckett's surprised by Alexis' laugh in response.

 _Alexis seems… lighter. Maybe not happier, but maybe less wary?_

Settling into the table, the group takes in the dessert options just as Castle rejoins them after finishing his call in the office. As he takes his seat, Jim turns to provide some gentle ribbing. "You know, Rick, I'm not sure Simon would approve of these desserts. After all those tests, he'd probably have some words for me about cholesterol or diabetes if he saw this spread."

"It'll be our little secret," Castle smiles in reply. "Though I've got some left-over salad if you're concerned about it. Besides, dessert's healthy," he says and hears Beckett scoff. "What? There's fruit in the tart."

 _So, I guess a jelly donut is healthy, too?_

"And that makes it healthy?" Beckett laughs. "Nice try, Rick."

"Did you say Simon?" Meredith asks Jim. "Not Simon Chu?"

"Yes," Jim replies, after looking to Castle and getting a subtle nod. "I was nervous about that health condition I mentioned earlier. Oh, that was before you arrived," he mentions at her look of confusion. "Anyway, Rick set me up with Simon, who was superb."

"He married my friend Marie," Meredith confides. "I was surprised she settled for him, but they're still together so something must be working for them."

"They're doing well," Castle picks up. "Four kids now, but lamenting the suburban life. He still has designs on the loft," Castle chuckles until he notices Alexis' worried look. "Don't worry, Pumpkin. This is home. I don't have any plans to leave, even though the old place will feel cavernous while you're away," he says while reaching out a hand to clasp his daughter's gently.

"This place is very large, Richard, even with Alexis here," Meredith replies. _Here we go – she's been spoiling for this pitch._ "There's plenty of room for me to stay here with Alexis, right?"

"I've got good news on that front," Castle says smoothly. "I gave Roger a call before dessert. You're all set up at the Plaza."

 _Nice flanking maneuver, Rick!_

"Really, Richard? A hotel? I'm here to spend time with Alexis," Meredith complains.

"And she can visit you at the Plaza, if she's free," Castle says casually, determined to keep this conversation low-key. "We could've made other arrangements with a little advanced notice."

"Oh, really?" Meredith replies in annoyance. "So you're not letting me stay here because I didn't call ahead?"

"Meredith, this isn't really the time or place for this discussion," Castle says, still hoping to keep this discussion calm.

 _He's surprisingly good at this. Where's this approach when it's Gates we're talking to?_

"Oh, am I supposed to call from the hotel?" Meredith asks. "Or do I need to schedule an appointment?"

"Mere, you wouldn't be staying here even if you'd let us know you were coming," Castle says, giving up on deferring the conversation. "It's not appropriate."

"She's really got you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?" Meredith asks while glaring at Beckett. "You let her just waltz in here and block me from my daughter?"

"Meredith," Castle says sternly, "Kate hasn't said one word about this and no one is blocking you from Alexis. But this is not your home."

"It isn't hers, either," Meredith snipes back, looking at Beckett. "Or is it? Is that what this is – wishful thinking on your part? Well, good luck with that," she says with a dramatic laugh. "You've known her for years and there's still no ring on that finger."

 _I won't let you make him doubt me._

"Meredith…," Castle says in dismay as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"There will be," Beckett says, voice low but confident.

"What?" says a chorus of voices from around the table in varying degrees of surprise or dismay.

"We will be married," Beckett says as she reaches out for Castle's hand, looking from face to face around the table but knowing that Castle will join his hand to hers. "If Castle asked me right now I'd say yes. Happily."

"So why don't you?" Meredith goads, convinced that this is empty talk.

"Our marriage won't be just about us," Beckett replies softly, blushing under the scrutiny of those around the table. Looking down, she sees her hand linked in Castle's. Following the line of his arm up to his face, she finds it much easier to continue her explanation after connecting with him, drinking in the beauty of his gaze before turning back to the others. "There are other people in our lives who are important to us, who need to be comfortable with us taking this step. I think we can wait a little bit for them to get used to us," she finishes with a shy blush.

As if to put an exclamation point on her embarrassment, Castle tugs on her hand, recapturing her attention and bringing her close enough for a sweet, chaste kiss. Only the sound of Meredith pushing her chair away from the table breaks them from their reverie.

"Excuse me," Castle says apologetically as he leaves the table to tend to Meredith.

 _Here we go…_

" _Well_ ," Martha says jubilantly from the foot of the table, "that little announcement trumps all of the news from the start of dinner, I'd say. No offense, Jim," she says while lifting her glass to him.

"None taken," Jim says amiably. "I agree entirely," he says while joining her toast.

 _I thought our parents would be on board. But now for my harshest critic._

After a quick, fortifying breath, Beckett looks up to gauge Alexis' reaction to her impromptu declaration. "I'm sorry, Alexis. I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that. I know I've got a long way to go before you'll feel comfortable about that, if ever."

Alexis takes a moment to look at Beckett before turning to look at Jim and Martha. "Maybe it's good that it happened," she says with a shrug. "Maybe it's something I should start thinking about. Just…," she says, stopping to take a drink before continuing, "just don't hurt him. And don't… I'll come talk to you if I want to discuss it, okay?"

"Of course," Beckett says earnestly. "Whatever you want. Just don't be shy about coming to me, okay?"

"'Kay," Alexis agrees readily, anxious to close this conversation.

Before attention can shift to a new topic, Castle and Meredith return from wherever they'd retreated for their discussion. "Well, all, I'm off to the Plaza," Meredith proclaims, sounding to all the world like the hotel stay was her idea. "I need to repent at the gym after this meal and I'm sure the flight will absolutely ravage my sleep schedule," she laments theatrically. "Alexis, honey, call me tomorrow and we can do lunch," she says as she bends to drop a kiss on her daughter's cheek. "Come along, Richard."

"Be right back. I'm playing porter," Castle explains quickly before he walks over to the door and shoulders all of the luggage, a comical sight as he's quickly obscured by overpriced bags crafted from the skins of some unfortunate, unknown animals. With only a few grunts, Castle caroms off the doorframe before disappearing from the loft.

It suddenly sounds as if the dinner table sprung a leak, as each of the remaining dinner attendees release a heavy sigh as the loft door closes. The communal exhalation causes them to look around at each other before busting into a series of embarrassed laughs as they share in the release of tension.

 _Even Alexis looks happier. As precocious as she is, it's easy to forget that she's still the product of a broken home. The drama from Meredith's visit can't be easy for her, especially on the heels of the quick trip to California._

As Jim stands and lifts his dessert plate, Beckett intervenes. "No, dad, you already took care of dinner cleanup. Let me take care of this."

"I should help, too," Alexis says quietly, clearly uncomfortable.

"Actually," Jim replies, "I was wondering if I could chat with you for a little bit, Alexis?"

Looking surprised but showing the good manners that she's learned from her father and grandmother, Alexis agrees and leads Jim over to the living room, where they settle in for a talk.

 _I wonder what that's about. I might have to have a chat of my own with dad later._

"Don't worry," Martha whispers to Beckett as she helps move the dishes from the table to the counter. "Your father seems to have a deft hand with people. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"You're right," Beckett agrees, turning back to the task of clearing the table. "I'm sorry about the little surprise announcement back there, but thank you for your support. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, Katherine," Martha sighs as she sets down a plate and pulls her into a hug. "I've hoped for that for ages," she whispers, "for both of you."

Just as she's sinking into Martha's embrace, Beckett jerks back as if stung.

"Katherine?" Martha asks in a sufficiently worried tone to catch the attention of Jim and Alexis, who are returning to the kitchen after their chat.

 _I guess everyone here knows about us, so…_

"It's Rick," Beckett says as she steps away from Martha and rubs her cheek. "I think he just got slapped."

 _And not by me this time._

"Oh, is that all?" Martha relaxes. "I hate to tell you this kiddo, but if your cheek is going to hurt every time Richard gets slapped, then taking him off the market will be a good way to save yourself a lot of pain."

Beckett and Alexis share an amused smirk at this, before they each remember that they're supposed to be awkward about this and quickly look away from each other. In doing so, they miss the indulgent look shared by Jim and Martha in response.

Beckett's just turning back to clear the table when the loft door opens and Castle walks in, bouncing on his toes again. He makes it three strides into the loft before he slows, suddenly aware that everyone is looking at him curiously.

"What?" he asks as he looks down to make sure he didn't drop food on his shirt or leave his pants unzipped.

When the others share a conspiratorial look but don't answer, Castle becomes a little more nervous, looking at himself and spinning in place while trying to look over his shoulder to see if there's a sign on his back. Finally, Beckett takes pity on him and sways over to his side, dropping a sweet kiss on the cheek she knows was slapped just minutes ago.

"Everything okay?" Beckett asks him. His blush reveals shows that he's figured out she knows about the slap, and from the reactions in the room, the others do, too.

"Yeah," he says with a sigh. "I'll tell you about it in a minute. Just let me talk to Alexis, first."

"Come on," Alexis says, motioning to the lounge area. "It doesn't make sense to have the conversation twice. Just tell us what happened."

Noticing Martha and Jim making their way to the dinner table with coffee cups in hand, Castle nods and leads Beckett to the lounge area by the hand.

"Pumpkin," he says as she sits down with Beckett still at his side, "your mother and I had a bit of a disagreement."

"No kidding," Alexis chuffs, prompting a smirk from Beckett and a rueful grin from Castle.

"Yeah," he says as he runs a hand through his hair. "Things got a little out of hand on the elevator ride down to the cab. I'll tell you what happened, but first things first: you know that I've never tried to block Meredith from you, right?"

Alexis casts a quick glance at Beckett, but then turns to her father. "Yeah, Dad, I know. You've always been really good about that. Probably better than you should've been."

"Perhaps," Castle allows. "But I don't plan on making any other changes aside from the one I just… discussed with her," he says while rubbing his cheek.

"Come on already, Castle," Beckett nudges him from the side. "What did you do?"

"I remembered something important," Castle says with a shrug. "That we live in a secure building. Meredith is no longer pre-cleared. She's welcome to visit, but she'll get no closer to the loft than the security desk unless one of us allows her up."

"Oh," Beckett and Alexis say in unison, before glancing at each other quickly.

"You're always welcome to let her up, Alexis," Castle promises. "But no more surprise arrivals on our doorstep, no more ambushes."

Alexis nods, looking contemplative but saying nothing for a few moments. Finally, she stops nodding and looks at her father. "Was mom right? Is this about Kate?"

This time it's Castle who takes several moments to think before answering. "I guess the answer," he says as he looks first at Beckett and then his daughter, "is that it's like a lot of other things involving Kate: it's something I should've been smart enough to do on my own, but didn't think to do until she inspired me to be better."

 _Must – not – jump – Castle. I don't think that would improve Alexis' thoughts about us right now. But once we're alone, Rick…_

Alexis takes in this answer, nodding contemplatively again. "Mom's not going to like this."

"No," Castle huffs, again rubbing his cheek, "not at all. I'm afraid there was a bit of a scene downstairs."

"As if that's the first time," Alexis rolls her eyes. "Good cop bad cop?"

Beckett, thinking Alexis' comment pertains to her, looks at Castle in confusion.

"Of course," Castle agrees. "You can make me out to be quite the ogre when you see her. This is all my idea and I'm absolutely intransigent on the matter. Perhaps, over time, you can calm me down."

"I need a new dress," Alexis adds as a seeming non-sequitur. "I'll let that slip after she speaks her mind about the new security arrangement and then we'll be off to the stores."

"Retail diversion," Castle agrees. "Thanks, Pumpkin. I think this is for the best, but I could've made the process a whole lot less stressful for you. I'm sorry."

"It's…," she starts to say when her cell starts to ring, "okay," she concludes, showing her phone to Castle so that he can see Meredith's face pop up. "I think I'll take this upstairs."

"Okay, Pumpkin," Castle agrees as he stands and helps Alexis rise, rubbing her shoulder affectionately before she heads for the stairs. "Feel free to throw me under the bus!"

"Everything okay?" Jim asks as he walks over to them while shrugging back into his suitcoat.

"It'll be fine," Castle says as Beckett steps into his side and nods. "I'm really, really sorry about tonight, Jim. I know this isn't…"

"Hush, Rick," Jim says kindly. "It was a wonderful dinner. You have an extraordinary daughter," he says with a wink, "and a beauty of a mother."

"And you, Katherine," Martha adds as she walks over to join them, "have a father with impeccable taste!"

"Thank you, Mother," Castle says with feigned exasperation, "for lightening the mood. Actually," he continues as his voice grows earnest, "thank you both for tonight. Even without Meredith tonight could've been a disaster, but instead it was a tantalizing glimpse of the promise before us."

"You're such a writer," Beckett teases fondly, causing more chuckles. "But you're right. Thank you, Martha. And thanks, dad. Tonight was its own strange kind of wonderful."

"Expect nothing less at Casa de Castle," Castle laughs.

"It was our pleasure," Jim says while Martha nods. "But, though I hate to admit it, I'm getting a little too old for this kind of stress. I think I'll leave you kids to entertain yourselves for the rest of the evening. Katie, will you walk me out?"

Moments later, after effusive goodbyes (including even an Alexis wave from the stairs, one arm raised in farewell while the other kept the cellphone to her ear), Kate ushers her father into the elevator.

"So, did I do okay?" Jim asks as the door closes.

 _You've got to be kidding me._

Barking a surprise laugh, Beckett lets her fierce, teary hug be her answer. "You were perfect, dad. Perfect."

"Good to hear," Jim chuckles quietly, gladly returning his daughter's hug. "That's quite a family you've got there, Katie."

"Yeah, it is," Beckett agrees quietly as they exit the elevator and cast a wave to the security desk. "Still some work to do, but we'll get there," Beckett vows.

"I know you will," Jim says simply, but it's the sound of his assurance that really hits home. "But before I go, I need to thank you, too, Katie."

"Afraid I'll feel left out?" Beckett challenges. "There are thanks flying all over the place tonight," she teases.

"And all well-earned," Jim agrees. "In this case, I'm thanking you for involving me, for opening your life to me. It feels good to be back in the light again," he admits, causing Beckett to curl into his side even as a cab pulls to the curb before them.

"I thought about Jo a lot tonight," Jim continues, sounding wistful but not sad. "And, for the first time I can remember, it was all pleasant, either fond recollections or fun thoughts about how tonight might've gone if she'd been there with us. It would've been…"

"Memorable," Beckett provides. "Probably in a multitude of ways."

"Agreed," Jim answers with a chuckle. "She would've adored Rick, adopted Alexis, and conspired with Martha. I don't think she would've cared much for Meredith, though."

"No," Beckett laughs, "not at all. And Meredith wouldn't have any idea what hit her."

"See?" Jim motions to Beckett, who's smiling and laughing. "Thank you for this," he says, which only makes Beckett's smile grow wider. "Now, go on. Go spend some time with Rick. I'm going to drift home while listening to the sounds of an angel who watched tonight's dinner and still can't stop her laughter."

* * *

A/N2: Apologies for the delay on getting this part posted. Thanksgiving was fantastic but I ended up spending the day in the kitchen. No cases of food poisoning yet, so we're looking good on that front. But, between the holiday festivities and updates on a ridiculous number of fantastic stories that already have me hooked (Whisper, Oxymoron, The Right Call, Diving Into It Together) or new stories (to me, at least), it's amazing that I got anything done.

As for this chapter, I'll just say that Thanksgiving and family time makes me sentimental. I wanted the characters to have some bonding opportunities. I also thought it was important to minimize the gamma shenanigans for this event. Aside from a few events that shifted the timing of things only slightly, there was no external magic in this chapter, just chances for the characters to enjoy the company (with, perhaps, one exception). This chapter (and the preceding one) also provided me with the opportunity to tweak canon again. I actually liked After Hours and Significant Others, but in the Running Water storyline, there's no chance that the Meredith-Beckett meeting could set the stage for the Squab and the Quail. Thankfully.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _I can't believe I'm doing this by phone again when it should be in person._

"Good morning, sunshine," Beckett says with a smile as Castle answers her call.

"Morning? It's almost noon," Castle teases. "Don't tell me the extraordinary Detective Kate Beckett slept in this fine day?"

"I did," Beckett confesses with a smile, "I didn't get out of bed until almost _seven_ this morning."

"Oh, my," Castle says in a flat voice, "Rebel Becks is back. Lock up the wine coolers, hide the bad poetry, and prepare yourself for the smell of wet flannel and clove cigarettes."

 _Curse that God-forsaken yearbook. Wait a minute – that wasn't in the yearbook._

"It's so nice to see that the men in my life are gossiping about me," Beckett harrumphs. "I _was_ calling to see if I could have you and Alexis over for dinner tonight, but now I'm wondering if it should just be her and I."

"Too late," Castle teases in return. "Alexis is already booked up, I'm afraid. But the lesser Castle is still available."

"Well," Beckett says with exaggerated sadness, "let her know that I called, will you? I guess I'll see you around, Rick."

"Are you really going to make me beg here, Beckett?" Castle husks into the phone. "I missed you last night. I can think of a few things we could do in my daughter's absence."

"I _suppose_ we could try having dinner," Beckett muses. "You know, see if we have any common interests, anything to talk about…"

"How would you feel about getting together before dinner? I've been thinking about something since last night," Castle says with an odd tone in his voice.

"About my little declaration?" Beckett asks with a blush. _Cosmo_ and any number of other 'sources' would be horrified with her decision to raise the issue of marriage in general, and certainly in a situation like last night's dinner, certain that it would terrify her partner and blow up the relationship. _But they don't know Castle like I do. He's a dreamer. I know what he hopes for us, and I'm hoping that this dream will come true._

"Trust me, Kate," Castle says in a voice that's pivoted from playful to sincere. "I haven't stopped thinking about that. Maybe we can talk about it a little over dinner?" he asks with hope. "Don't worry, I won't be making any grand gestures, yet," he clarifies quickly, worried about scaring Beckett off.

"I'd like that," Beckett replies in her own soft voice. "What else were you thinking about?"

"Something we should talk about in person," Castle evades.

"Is this about your family health condition?" Beckett follows up, adopting Castle's code phrase while wondering if this is something Gamma-related.

"Not really," Castle replies, whetting Beckett's curiosity. "Alexis is going to leave at 4:30. Would it be okay if I came over after she leaves?"

"Sure," Beckett draws the word out, wondering about the labored set-up when she'd be happy to have him simply assume she'd like to see him. _Last night's declaration aside, maybe I should be a little more direct about some of the little steps we'll take to get there._ "I'll put you to work in the kitchen. Is Alexis meeting up with Meredith?"

"No," Castle sighs. "They had breakfast this morning, just before Meredith left for the airport."

 _So much for the 'I'm only here for you' nonsense Meredith's sure to have rolled out for Alexis._

"What?" Beckett can't help her tone, which is much closer to Detective Beckett than Girlfriend Kate. "She's going back to LA already? She just got here!"

 _Poor Alexis. She tries so hard to be the adult that her mother isn't, but it was obvious last night that she still loves Meredith. She must be crushed._

"She's on her way to Paris," Castle answers with another sigh. "Some opportunity came up, I guess. She wasn't very clear on the reason for the trip. She invited Alexis to join her, but my daughter doesn't have great associations of Paris with Meredith."

 _I'm sure she doesn't, given the trauma of their unplanned Parisian 'lunch date' that had terrified both Castle and Alexis._

"Rick, you should stay with Alexis," Beckett says with concern. "That poor girl needs a parent today."

"That's why I'm sticking around the loft until she leaves," Castle says. "After that, she'll have another parent – yours."

"Mine?" Beckett asks in surprise. "Alexis is going out with dad?"

"He'd offered to take her out for coffee," Castle explains. "When he called to check her schedule and heard about the change in plans, he invited her out to dinner. She's heading out to a movie with friends afterwards."

"Huh," Beckett replies, thinking back to the side conversation that her dad had with Alexis last night.

"You're dying to ask him about it, right?" Castle asks. "I'm not pestering Alexis about it, but it's killing me."

"I guess I'll join you," Beckett reluctantly agrees. "It's probably really bad that I just wondered if we could figure out a way to eavesdrop on them, right?"

"I've been sitting here wondering how we could do it," Castle admits with a laugh, "I think I might've figured out a way, but I'm going to behave. They'll tell us if there's anything we need to know."

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

 _A punctual teenager? This is something new._

"Hi, Alexis," Jim says as he reaches out a hand in greeting. Shocking him, Alexis bypasses the hand and gives him a quick hug instead. "Sorry I'm late."

"You're not late, Mr. Beckett," Alexis says with a smile. "I left home a little early. Dad stayed home today and I was getting a little stir crazy with all the quiet."

"Quiet?" Jim says in surprise as he offers an elbow to escort her as they follow the waitress to a linen-covered table. "I don't know your dad all that well, but 'quiet' isn't a word I'd use to describe him," he says with a chuckle. "And please, Alexis, call me Jim."

Lowering herself into a seat that Jim helps push in, Alexis says "Thanks, Jim," both for seating her and for the invitation to use his given name. _This must be the confident young woman Katie described to me – one free of last night's family_ _drama._

"It was a false quiet," Alexis explains as she opens the menu, keeping it low enough so that she can still speak with Jim while it's open before her. "Other than when he's focused on writing, Dad's not a quiet guy. But today's quiet wasn't about writing, it was about him doing everything he could not to ask me about our dinner," she says with a smile.

"Katie, too," Jim agrees. "I expected to hear from her today. The lack of a call tells me that she's trying to rein in her curiosity, since I'm sure she heard about our dinner plans from Rick."

"At least she's subtle about it," Alexis chuffs in response. "That's another word that doesn't really apply to Dad."

"Don't be too hard on the old guy," Jim says with a smile of his own as he peruses the menu. "We dads have trouble walking the line between supportive and interfering. And, being men, we often misstep."

"Well, at least you admit your limitation," Alexis teases. "They say the first step is admitting you have a problem…," she trails off as she visibly pales, suddenly remembering Jim's history of addiction.

 _Well, we got here faster than I thought we would._

"Oh my God," Alexis groans, blushing as she sets her menu on the table. "I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean…"

"It's okay, Alexis," Jim offers in a gentle voice. "Look," he says while he knocks on the table. "I'm not made of glass, so please don't think I'm frail. My past is one of the things I'd hoped to talk to you about."

"Really?" Alexis asks, surprised. Uncertain on how to proceed, Alexis is saved by the arrival of their server, who mistook her lowering of the menu as a signal that they were prepared to order.

After placing their orders, Jim lets Alexis off the hook. "There were a few things that I'd hoped to talk to you about, Alexis, if you're willing. But, let me start with an apology," he offers, getting a tilted head and furrowed brow from Alexis in response. "Maybe I shouldn't have jumped at the chance for dinner tonight. This seems so much more formal than a casual conversation over coffee."

"It's fine," Alexis objects. "I messed up a little at the start, but we can still have a casual conversation, just with some nice food. Besides, compared to last night, this dinner is _very_ low key," she offers with an embarrassed chuckle.

"It sure is," Jim answers with a smile. "That's actually the first reason I wanted us to have a chance to talk. I'd heard great things about you and had been looking forward to meeting you. But last night's dinner ended up being a little unusual."

"You'd heard about me?" Alexis asks with a faint blush.

"Of course," Jim answers. "Your father talks about you all the time, and Katie talks to me. As their time together grew, I heard more and more about you. Your father is very proud of you, and Katie's very impressed."

"I know Dad's proud of me," Alexis agrees, blush deepening while she ignores the comments about Beckett. "He tells me," she says awkwardly, pausing slightly before continuing. "I'm just surprised you've heard about it."

"I know that you have some concerns about Katie, and we might talk about some of those if you'd like," Jim answers. "But you shouldn't doubt that she's been impressed by you and shared her thoughts with me."

"I guess I am a little surprised," Alexis admits. "I don't really think of them talking about me."

"Speaking as a father," Jim offers as a light confession, "we love to brag about our kids. Especially when it's well-justified. And from what I understand, Rick's got a lot to brag about with you."

 _I'm not the only one with a beautiful daughter. Blushing like she is now or not, Alexis is even prettier than her mother._

"I'm not trying to embarrass you, Alexis," Jim offers. "Let's just say that I'm intrigued by what I've heard and by what I saw during an unusually trying dinner last night. I'm looking forward to getting to know you."

"Thanks," Alexis replies, again looking surprised that an adult is expressing an interest in getting to know her and simultaneously flattered and embarrassed by the attention. "You mentioned that there were other reasons you wanted to talk. Would you mind talking about those?"

"Sure," Jim answers, happy to provide a narrative to take some of the direct focus off of Alexis. "I guess there're probably two other thoughts for us to explore. The first is that you and I are similar in that," he pauses briefly before lowering his voice, "neither of us is a magician, at least not yet. You might be, though I think your father is working to ensure that you're never stressed enough to find out," he says with a chuckle, which Alexis joins. "If Rick and Katie spend more time together, I'm going to need another mere mortal with whom to spend time."

"You're telling me," Alexis says with some relief. "He made me fly!" she says after her own quick look around. "He lifted me right off the couch and Detect – Kate – was hardly surprised. It was a bit humbling."

"I had cancer," Jim confides, "and a severely damaged liver. I was just hoping to make it through the holidays," he confesses, looking down until Alexis reaches out and touches his arm in a show of support. "And now I'm healthy," Jim says, still struggling to believe it. "So, trust me, it's a little daunting to think about sitting down and sharing a meal with a guy who's unconstrained by modern medical knowledge. How in the world am I supposed to read him the riot act about treating my daughter right?"

"You know, that's been the weirdest part of this for me," Alexis confesses. "Not the Gamma stuff. But seeing Detect – Kate," she stumbles again, "as a daughter. I've only ever seen her in as a fierce detective, I guess. But last night she was emotional, even a little shy."

 _I was surprised, too, but I'm so glad that you got to see that side of her, especially before your mother's arrival._

"My Katie's more than a detective," Jim answers. "At least, she used to be, and I think she's getting there again. This is what I really wanted to talk to you about," he says studying Alexis. "If that's okay with you?"

"Sure?" Alexis says in a tone that suggests she's not entirely comfortable.

Jim waits for the server to deliver their meals before continuing, holding off until they've each started eating before picking up his explanation.

"I know you've got some reservations about your father and Katie," Jim starts, ensuring that Alexis was between bites and not taking a drink. Rather than object, she casts him an inquisitive look, curious about the source or depth of his knowledge. "I saw a little bit of that last night, before your mother arrived, but I've also heard it from Katie."

"Mr. Beckett…," Alexis begins to object, her reversion to formality a clear sign of her distress.

 _I need to be careful. The last thing poor Alexis needs is another adult dragging her into an unwelcome conversation._

"Please, Alexis, just give me a moment to explain, then we'll only continue if you're interested," he asks gently. "First, I'm not here to win you over. You've got some valid concerns about Katie and you're justifiably interested in protecting your father."

Surprised by the opening, Alexis relaxes a bit, enough for Jim to notice her change in posture.

"Second," he continues, "I'm not here to speak for or about Katie. She's an adult and can take care of herself," he says proudly. "And, as her father, I'm not going to betray her trust."

"So," Alexis asks, now a little confused, "what _did_ you want to talk about?"

Taking this as a signal of her interest to continue the discussion, Jim forges ahead. "I wanted to apologize," he confesses, losing some of his confidence for a moment and looking down at his plate to marshal his courage. "You know that I had some problems after Johanna was killed," he says, looking up to see a very concerned Alexis staring back at him. "I started drinking to numb the pain. I lost myself," Jim confesses, looking down again until the shame of flinching convinces him to look at Alexis again. "So, instead of just losing one parent, Katie lost us both."

"Jim," Alexis says gently, "you don't have to tell me this. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"I'm glad you did, Alexis," Jim answers with a sad chuckle. "It's something that I think you need to know, something I think you're mature enough to understand. May I ask you a personal question?"

The change in topic catches her a little off guard, but Alexis nods, willing to share something with Jim after his confession.

"Have you ever doubted your father's love?" Jim asks, looking directly at Alexis.

" _Never_ ," Alexis answers promptly, fiercely. "Never."

"I wasn't as good a father to Katie as I think Rick has been to you," Jim allows, "but I wasn't bad. Jo, though – she was fantastic. So, Katie grew up in a bubble, the only child in a well-off household with parents who loved each other and adored their daughter. It provided her with a foundation to excel, to play the rebel because she knew in her heart that she'd always have a safe place. I think it's something you can imagine, maybe even something you wished for."

Alexis, teary-eyed, manages a nod in response.

"And then it was gone," Jim says while snapping his fingers, the soft noise still providing a jolt because of the seriousness of the conversations. "Jo was killed and I worse than disappeared – I was physically there but emotionally absent, maybe even abusive," Jim confesses in a low voice. Seeing the tears track down Alexis' cheek, he nearly loses the will to press on. "Of the many failures in my life, all the rest combined are a distant second to abandoning my daughter when she needed me most."

 _For which I'll never forgive myself, even if it seems like she's forgiven me._

Pausing to regroup, Jim reaches out for a desperate gulp of his ice water, closing his eyes to focus on the invigorating rush he feels as it goes down. He's surprised to see Alexis' hand on the table, waiting to hold his, when he sets the glass back in its place.

"Katie learned very quickly how vulnerable she was to the people she loved," Jim continues his story after clasping Alexis' hand. "Her mother was gone forever, without warning. And her father showed her that a lifetime of love and support could disappear almost overnight," he says with a cracking voice. "I thank God every night for sending Rick into her life. Over their years together he seems to have brought her back, reminded her that love can bring joy as well as vulnerability. Your father saved her. He did something for her that I was too selfish, too weak to do myself."

"But you're back now," Alexis says thickly, pausing to wipe her cheeks with her free hand. "You made it."

 _Yes and no._

"I'm sober," Jim agrees. "But I'm still healing. I'm still trying to recapture some of the life I had with Katie, some of the trust she had in me. It's easier now that she's happier," he confesses. "Which is another reason I'm glad to see that she and Rick might be finding their way together. I know you don't approve, but from a purely selfish, fatherly perspective, I just want my girl to be loved."

"She is," Alexis answers in a low voice. "Dad's loved her for ages."

 _Longer than she's loved him. I can hear it in your voice, see it in your look. But I'm not sure you're right._

"And I got in the way of that love," Jim confesses to Alexis' confused look. "We've never spoken of that terrible day when Katie was shot, when your father tried to protect her," Jim says, watching Alexis' face crumple as she looks down at her plate. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of your concerns about Katie stem from that time, or the long summer afterward."

"It… maybe…," Alexis stumbles, caught up in recollections of the awful summer during which she watched her father slowly fall apart. "It was a terrible summer."

"That's my fault," Jim admits, taking his hand back from Alexis to rub his face. "Katie needed me. For the first time since Jo was killed, she needed me. We went to the cabin so she could recuperate, and I was just so happy she turned to me that I didn't think about what would've helped her the most. I should've called Rick. I should've pushed her to call him. I should've asked him to visit," he says in a low voice. "It would've helped them both and I was too wrapped up to notice. I'm so, so sorry."

Sitting across from Jim, Alexis retreats, clasping her hands in her lap and looking down, thinking about what she's just heard.

"Kate…," she says slowly as she looks up to meet Jim's gaze, "Like you said earlier, Kate's a grown woman, she can speak for herself. She's old enough to be responsible for how she treats – and mistreats – other people."

"Yes, she is," Jim acknowledges. _And old enough to face the consequences of her actions._

"But this helps," Alexis says, voice lightening. "Knowing a little more about her, about what happened, it helps me understand her a little more."

"Katie needs to stand on her own," Jim answers. "She needs to forge or rebuild the relationships with people who are important to her, and I know she's trying," he says while giving Alexis a direct look to let her know that she'll be a focus of those efforts. "But, I thought that you should know that some of the things that might concern you most stem from my failures, not hers."

"I'll… think about it," Alexis says, looking pensive. "You've given me a lot to think about," she says as he picks up her fork and takes another bite, using the time to collect her thoughts. "Thank you, by the way," she says, catching his attention. "Thank you for treating me like an adult, for giving me the choice about whether to pursue this discussion. Thank you for trusting me with your story."

"It was my pleasure," Jim says with a smile that grows when it's returned by Alexis. "Now, why don't we lighten things up a bit? Tell me about yourself. All I know is you're 'brilliant, beautiful, and fiercely protective of your father,'" he says with a wink. "Let's fill in some of those blanks, shall we?"

Smiling in reaction to his playfulness, Alexis nods and raises her water in salute. "You're a good dad, Jim Beckett," she says with a smile, before she starts telling him about herself.

 _There you go, Katie. The rest is up to you._

* * *

 **Castle**

"Hey, Babe," Beckett says as she opens her door with an enthusiastic flourish. There before her stands Castle, with both hands hidden behind his back.

 _Nice look, Beckett. The old 'I can't believe I'm happy he brought me presents so I won't let him see me smile.' Give it up, already, you're not fooling either of us._

"You come bearing bribes?" Beckett asks sassily as she stands in the door, blocking his path until he reveals what's hidden behind his back.

"Aren't bribes _illegal_?" he asks with a voice like gravel. "Wouldn't you have to cuff me?"

"I thought you had presents for me, not for you," Beckett retorts with a smile.

"How about something _else_ we can both enjoy?" he asks, bringing his left hand around to show the two wine bottles he's barely managing to hold by the necks with one hand. "I wasn't sure what was on the menu, so we have a red and a white."

"I love the albariño," Beckett practically purrs. "We'll save the merlot for later. It's not pumpkin spiced, is it?" she asks with a smile, recalling Martha's diversion from last night.

"No," Castle chuckles. "You know, sometimes I forget how good Mother can be at improvisation."

"She was fantastic," Beckett agrees with a cocked eyebrow, "but quit changing the subject. The wine's already in play, and I know you're a romantic. So, chocolate or flowers?" she asks, standing on her barefooted toes in a vain effort to peek over his shoulder.

"Well, forget it now," Castle pretends to complain. "I hate being so predictable."

"Oh, come on, Rick," she says while reaching out to rub his chest with both hands and rolling the 'R' in his name, "please won't you show me what you've got? I know you want to…" she asks in a sultry voice, eyebrows raised as she looks down his front rather than over his shoulder.

"Careful," Castle warns in a rough voice, "with an approach like that you're definitely going to melt your present."

"Chocolate, then," Beckett says with a satisfied nod while stepping away from him to allow the room he needs to bring his right hand forward from behind his back.

 _Oh, detective, I'm not quite_ that _predictable yet._

But instead of a box of chocolates, Castle reveals a vase with a half-dozen roses. Beckett's smug smile falls away as she leans forward to inspect what appear to be the most detailed crystal roses she's ever seen.

"Sorry they won't last long," Castle apologizes as he hands her the vase. "I guess it's a metaphor for the fleeting transience of natural beauty," he suggests.

Taking the vase and holding it up to inspect it in the light, Beckett backs into the room and finally allows Castle's entry to her apartment. With a chuckle at her distraction, Castle follows her in and closes the door, taking time to set the wine down and lock up while Beckett's still distracted.

"Castle, did you _make_ these?" Beckett asks in wonder, realizing that the roses aren't crystal, but ice.

 _It took me forever, but it was totally worth it just to see that look of wonder._

"I had some extra time," Castle says with a bashful shrug. "Alexis was so anxious to see your dad that she left a little early."

"How?" she asks while turning the vase so that the light catches the roses from different directions.

"Remember when the curse returned to the precinct?" Castle asks with a light chuckle. "I'd been working with a sphere of water, and later I froze Kevin's coffee. I figured I'd experiment, see what I could do."

"Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy," Beckett teases, catching Castle off guard. "Not the flowers – they're gorgeous – but your word choice. Honestly, writer, how can the curse 'return' if it was never there in the first place?" she asks as she leans in for a delayed welcome kiss.

 _Damn it, I didn't think this through. She's going to have to stop kissing me to put the flowers down before they melt. Next time I need to…_

Castle seems to lose his train of thought as Beckett continues to vigorously welcome him. But, as he predicted, she pulls away sooner than he'd like to attend to her flowers. Following her to the kitchen seems to get his mind working again, allowing him to return to the previous topic.

"Maybe I was talking about me," Castle suggests as Beckett places the vase on the counter, swiveling it back and forth until she's satisfied with how the flowers catch the light. "I'm pretty sure you called me a curse more often than you called me by name for our first year or two."

"I did and you were," Beckett agrees happily. "And if that's what you meant," she says with a facial expression that lets him know he's full of baloney, "then you're right – you did return. Every time I thought you were gone, you came back. That's why we're here now," she says while leaning in to give him another quick kiss. "That's why we get to have _us_."

"Nice, Beckett," Castle pretends to complain. "You make us sound like a perfect attendance certificate or a participation award."

"Oh," Beckett straightens herself and saunters over to the refrigerator to take out some of the components for their dinner. "I thought you liked my _participation_."

 _I should go sit down so she can turn that table on me, too._

"Trust me, I do," Castle nods vigorously to prove his point. "I very much enjoy _participating_ with you."

"Good," Beckett declares as she thumps a Tupperware container down in front of him, following quickly with a cutting board and knife. "You can participate in dinner preparation."

His smile shows his appreciation for her verbal sparring even as he shakes his head. Popping the lid on the container, he's met with an assortment of vegetables. "Stir fry?" he guesses.

"Yep," Beckett agrees as she sets a glass of the white wine in front of him. "Be careful chopping the vegetables – I've got plans for those fingers later tonight."

 _This has got to be a set-up._

"Yeah?" Castle asks, playing along.

"Yeah," Beckett agrees while pulling out another cutting board and a package of chicken. "My shoulders are killing me. I'll do… pretty much anything for a backrub."

 _Did I say set-up? This is like my dying request. 'Okay, Beckett, I_ suppose _I can spend endless hours rubbing your naked skin. Sigh.'_

"Does that mean you'll do 'anything' twice if I throw in a foot-rub?" Castle asks, pushing his luck as usual.

Beckett's low groan of anticipation is so indecent that Castle needs to start thinking about his kindergarten teacher in order to prevent any embarrassing developments that might distract from his knife-work with the vegetables.

"Twice and more," Beckett sighs. "I swear, Castle, had you only offered me a foot-rub after I lost my apartment I don't think I'd have been able to leave the loft."

 _You have no idea how many times I wanted to offer._

" _Now_ you tell me," Castle laments. "Though I'm curious about what you mean by ' _and more,_ '" he asks with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

"Of course you are," Beckett laughs as she begins cubing the chicken. "I got to thinking about our conversations in the washroom and about boat names," she starts to explain before he interjects.

"Are you finally going to tell me the name of the new boat?" he asks in a tone of deep curiosity wrapped in whining petulance.

"No," Beckett says with a stern look that collapses quickly. "You'll find out when it's delivered. What I was _going_ to say," she says with a dramatic roll of her eyes, "is that your challenge about whether I could punish you made me think. I should've figured out long, long ago that you respond better to incentives than threats."

 _Oh, no, detective. No revisionism here!_

"You knew that the first time you met me," Castle disagrees with a laugh. "Seriously – is there a threat you didn't level at me sometime in our first year?" he asks and laughs at the sight of her faint blush. "We both know you stuck with threats because the things I'd consider to be incentives were terrifying to you."

"And probably anatomically impossible," Beckett grumbles, her blush deepening by a shade.

"I believe that statement is something scientists describe as a 'testable hypothesis,'" Castle supplies helpfully, causing Beckett to drop her head.

"Why did I even start talking about this?" she laments rhetorically.

"Two reasons," Castle helpfully supplies. "First, you've got some dark fantasies that you want to add to our list and this conversation provides a perfect segue."

 _He shoots and he scores! Look at that blush – and I thought I was only joking!_

"Second," he continues quickly so that Beckett doesn't have a chance to disagree with his first point, "you were explaining what _'and more'_ might mean in the context of incentives."

"Why on earth would I want to encourage this kind of behavior?" Beckett groans.

"Because you enjoy _participating_ in what follows," Castle answers happily, bringing their conversation full circle.

Shaking her head, she raises it far enough for him to see her smile, which looks all the more lovely for the color in her cheeks. "That I do," she agrees. "Your 'and more' is over on the table," she says with a nod. "Better get over there before I change my mind."

Curious, Castle finishes chopping the last of the vegetables before he stands and makes a quick detour to the sink to wash and dry his hands. Venturing over to the table, he knows that Beckett's watching him, even though he can't quite manage to catch her in the act. Approaching the table, he notices a blank rectangular piece of paper. Spinning quickly and still failing to catch her watchful eye, Castle pauses dramatically before slowly reaching for the paper. Beckett, confident that his curiosity will overwhelm his attempt to tease, pretends to ignore him while stepping to the sink to wash her hands.

" _Oh_ ," Castle huffs as he flips the paper over. _She's magnificent_. "Please," Castle begs, "please tell me that you're at least eighteen in this picture."

Laughing while she dries her hands and saunters over to join him, Beckett considers torturing him a bit. "You like me in the tennis outfit?" she asks, gesturing to one of her modeling pictures that came up in discussion last night. "My _virginal white_ tennis outfit?" she whispers in his ear before nipping his earlobe. "Yes, Rick, I was eighteen."

"Thank God," Castle says with a relieved sigh, now taking the time to study the picture in more detail. "Was there ever a time when you weren't gorgeous?"

Rewarding his question with another kiss to the neck, Beckett sighs as she encircles him with her arms. "You haven't seen me before senior year. That's when I finally grew into my gangly arms and legs and lost my braces. My earlier pictures aren't pretty."

"That's more outlandish than most of my case theories," Castle answers flatly, refusing to believe there was ever a time when Beckett wasn't breathtaking.

 _And if it is true, there must be a whole school's worth of young men who haven't stopped kicking themselves for failing to anticipate the beauty that would later emerge._

"Always the skeptic," Beckett pretends to complain as she steps away while grabbing his hand to pull him over to the stove. "Now come on, talk to me while I cook."

"Shall I tell you a story?" Castle asks with a leer before stepping away to put the picture atop a cabinet and out of harm's way.

"Not this time, lover-boy," Beckett says with a wicked smile of her own. "I'd like to have a romantic dinner, so let's get your serious topic out of the way," she says as she reaches down to retrieve a battered wok from a cabinet beneath the counter.

Leaning his hip against the side of the counter, Castle's momentarily distracted by Beckett's bottom as she crawls in to search for the base for the wok, which has apparently gone missing. After a few moments of active rummaging, Beckett's motions stop. Without pulling herself out of the cabinet, she guesses what's going on. "I guess I should've just showcased my ass all those times I wanted you to stop talking?"

 _And you call yourself a detective._

"Of course," Castle agrees immediately. "That's _exactly_ what you should've done. Why do you think I was quiet anytime we were ascending stairs?"

"Speaking of asses…" Beckett laughs as she returns to her search. Finally, with a trill of victory, Beckett stands with the circular wok base in hand.

"Damn," Castle sighs. "I'll have to hide that better next time."

Giving him a playful swat as she rinses the base and moves it to the stove, Beckett tries to get him started again. "Focus, Castle. What did you want to talk about?"

"Meredith," he says with a sigh.

"I know you didn't come over to my apartment without your daughter to talk about your ex-wife," Beckett says with a tone and look of exasperation. "So, what's going on? Did she take some parting shots at us during her breakfast with Alexis?"

"Probably," Castle replies. "But that doesn't worry me. I'm concerned about her return to LA. Aside from jilting Alexis again, this Paris trip is a good thing for us. It buys us a little time."

"I'm not liking the sound of this," Beckett replies with a wrinkled brow.

"Remember your comment about not hiding from Gates?" Castle asks with a flinch. "We might be testing that sooner than we'd like. After the marriage discussion and the change in her security status last night, I don't expect Meredith to stay quiet about this. If she whispers in the right ears in LA, it'll get to the _Post_ or the _Ledger_ within the day."

"And…," Beckett leads, knowing that Castle's building toward something.

 _What?_ You're _just shrugging off the media?!_

"And isn't that enough?" Castle asks in surprise. "You're a private person, Kate. You can't be happy about this."

"No," she agrees, surprising Castle with her conversational tone. "I'm not happy about it and we'll need to figure out how to deal with it, but this isn't a surprise, Rick. It's part of who you are. I've always known it would be something we'd need to face."

"Why, Detective," Castle says delightedly, "it almost sounds like you've been thinking about this for a while."

"Nice try, Castle," Beckett laughs, "but you're not going to coax that confession out of me now. Get back to your story – the media isn't the only thing you were thinking about."

Shaking his head, Castle relents. "I think we need to take advantage of being unimpeded in the precinct while we can," Castle finishes his thought, giving her a searching look.

"What, exactly, does that mean?" Beckett asks, curious but wary about where Castle's leading this discussion.

Castle takes a moment to drink her in, memorizing the quiet domesticity of their evening in case it's all about to explode. Heaving a sigh and haring into the discussion, he looks directly at Beckett. "I've been so happy since our escapade with the tiger," he says as he pushes away from the counter and steps behind Beckett, wrapping her in an embrace more gentle and loving than the one he used to make their escape back then. "I've been anxious for us to get our legs under us, to build a strong foundation. Last night was a big test, and I think we did pretty well."

"We did," Beckett says as she leans back into him, trying to keep their dinner from burning but enjoying the hug and worrying about where this conversation is heading. "Better than we could've hoped."

"But now our reprieve is over," Castle says quietly, holding her a little tighter. "I know you, Kate. I know that as happy as you've been, we need to resolve your mom's case before you'll really feel free to move on, to jump in completely."

"I'm sorry, Rick," Beckett begins before Castle steps in.

"Hey, none of that," he says in a playful tone. "I love you, remember? _All_ of you. We were always going to solve your mom's case, it's just that we need to move a little faster now in case Gates gets in the way."

"I guess you have a plan in mind?" Beckett asks. "I'm not sure there's much to be gained at the precinct – I've scoured all her files for years."

"I assume you have copies of everything?" Castle asks while Beckett blushes, returning to focusing on finishing up their dinner. "And they must be new copies, made since you moved into this apartment?"

" _I'm_ the detective in this relationship," Beckett grumbles. "How would you like it if I started writing best-selling novels?"

"That'd be fantastic!" Castle teases with glee. "Then I could drop my stressful lifestyle and have some fun."

Chuckling despite her efforts to ignore him, Beckett must enjoy the thoughts of Castle's lifestyle as 'stressful.' "Yes," she admits, "I have recent copies of anything that could be related to mom's case."

"Okay," Castle agrees. "Then I was thinking about two ways to go ahead. The first is for me to make a lot of obvious inquiries and requests for those files while pretending to act alone."

Wrinkling her brow as she cuts the heat to the wok and stretches to reach a serving bowl, Beckett 's too busy thinking about Castle's comment to notice that the bowl keeps moving slightly out of reach, causing her to fully stretch herself from her toes to her outstretched hand.

"Bastard," she sighs as she realizes that he keeps nudging the bowl just out of reach so he can admire her form. She feels Castle's hands close on her waist. Rather than pull her back, though, Castle lifts her easily so she can reach the bowl, spinning her in his arms so that she slides back down against his front.

"Just being helpful," Castle says with a sly smile. As she gets back to work, he shares the thoughts behind his plan. "If I make enough noise rooting around in your case, I expect someone to warn me off."

"The Mr. Smith you told me about?" Beckett asks as she carries the bowls of stir-fry and rice to the table, returning to hand their plates and silverware to Castle.

"Yes," Castle agrees. "And now we've got some new skills to persuade him to help us out," he says as he sets the table for them, retrieving their wine from the counter.

Quirking a brow, Beckett sees through her partner again. "Wait a minute – this is why you've been pushing yourself so hard to learn new tricks, isn't it? Coming up with these new moves and practicing so much."

 _It's amazing that I've gotten away with it this long._

"You and Alexis, yeah," Castle admits. "What's the point of being a Gamma if I can't protect the people I love?"

"Rick," Beckett says as she hugs him before he can sit at the table. "Gamma or not, I know you'd protect us both. You've been doing it for years. Even when I didn't realize it, or thought I didn't want it." Squeezing him tight while working to keep tears in check, Beckett buries her face in the crook of his neck. "Love you."

"Love you too, Beckett," he says coarsely as he gives her a squeeze. Then, prodding her towards her seat gently, he opts for diversion. "Now, come on, I worked my fingers to the bone for this meal. Let's see how it tastes."

Shaking her head but allowing the change in topic, Beckett takes a seat but stares at Castle rather than the food. Finally relenting, he serves them both while Beckett watches.

"Quick," Beckett asks, "tell me what the second thing is, then we're going to ignore everything but the two of us for the rest of the night."

"Gotta say, Beckett, impatient looks good on you," Castle laughs. _Better talk quick, before she changes her mind._ "Bob," he says at her impatient look. "If you're okay with it, I thought I'd talk to Bob about us, see if he can't run a little interference on our behalf."

"You mean you haven't already?" Beckett asks in surprise. "You two are thick as thieves, I would've thought you'd have talked to him about this long ago."

"There wasn't anything to tell before," Castle says with a shrug. "Besides, it wouldn't be right to talk to him if you weren't okay with it."

"Just how gullible do you think I am here, Rick?" Beckett says with an inquisitive look. "Do you really expect me to believe that after all your late-night carousing and whiskey-soaked poker evenings, the mayor doesn't know about us?"

 _I'm clearly going to need some better cover for our future poker games. Either that or I'll have to bring Beckett along. She'd clean up. Or, wait! I can be Bond and she can be the vixen that distracts everyone else at the table…_

"Oh, he knows," Castle says with a laugh, pulling himself back to the conversation with some difficulty. "He's teased me quite a bit. He really enjoys trying to set me up with women to see how I'll evade, especially in front of the other guys around the table."

"He's tried to set you up with other women?" Beckett asks in a fierce voice. "He just lost my vote."

 _And his liver, if that look could kill._

"He wasn't serious about it," Castle soothes. "It was just his way of trying to force a confession, something you should know all about. Trust me, he'll be a fan of us," he says with a smile.

"Talk to him, please," Beckett says as she reaches across the table to grab his hand. "Tell him that you finally succumbed to my witchy ways and that his efforts to tease you, while appreciated, need to find a new focus," she says with a smile while squeezing Castle's hand. "He's welcome to call me if he needs some hints."

"Gee, thanks, Beckett," Castle replies with an eye roll. "First my family, now you're winning over my friends? Anything else you're planning on stealing, Ms. Law Enforcement?"

"Actually, yes," Beckett answers conversationally. "I've got designs on your loft, Rick. But don't worry," she says with a wink. "I hear it's pretty big. I think I'd let you stay."

* * *

A/N2: Apologies for the late post – it's been a rough week. The conversation with Jim and Alexis, about which several people had inquired, also proved a little tricky to write. Thanks for hanging on despite my tardiness. Thanks, too, to TORONTOSUN, who pushed me a bit on Kate's intransigence on the modeling picture front. Now that this is posted, I'm going to reward myself by catching up on the stories I've ignored this week!


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Don't read too much into the word count, there's a long A/N down below.

.

* * *

 **Castle**

"You've been incautious in the extreme," says the shadowy form of Mr. Smith peevishly from beneath the brim of his fedora, his words muffled by the poor acoustics of the warehouse and the upturned collar of his trenchcoat.

 _Not that the clothes offer any protection. I always figured you for tighty-whiteys. But interesting that you're unarmed._

"My days at the precinct might be numbered," Castle answers in a voice that he forces to sound more concerned than he actually feels. He fears his increasing confidence as a Gamma is bleeding through to his general behavior, and he knows that Smith needs to see him as being on edge. "Gates has what she needs to make a push to kick me out. I've spoken to the mayor, but I don't know if that'll be enough."

"I know you spoke to the mayor," Smith replies, annoyed. _Maybe, but I doubt you know what we really talked about._ "And I also know that you're clumsily collecting information on the cases involving the Becketts. Tell me," Smith says in an attempt to sound conversational, "are you trying to get her killed? I thought I was clear on what would happen if her investigation continued."

"She's off the case," Castle answers quickly. _Or maybe she's standing about 20 yards from you_. "I'm just collecting what I need in case I get booted out."

"Do the people you've encountered," Smith asks as if he's talking to an imbecile, "seem like people who are interested in semantics? Do you really think they care if it's you or the detective who's poking around? If not for her, I would've thought you'd at least protect yourself, your daughter."

"You leave my daughter out of this," Castle growls.

"Why? Do you think they will? You're an even bigger fool than I've thought if you believe that," Smith scoffs. "These people kill. They don't ask questions, they don't negotiate, they kill. I thought you understood that."

"So, what am I supposed to do?" Castle asks in exasperation. "Just sit there and take it?"

"What you're _supposed_ to do," Smith says after halting his motion to pinch the bridge of his nose, "is stay at the precinct and keep the detective from looking into things that would endanger her."

 _Time to start pushing back. Beckett needs a distraction._

"You know, I'm not sure that I believe you," Castle argues in response.

"Believe what you want. You have the only evidence I'm going to provide – we talked, you agreed to the deal – at least, I thought you did – and no one's taken another shot at the detective," Smith says as if building logically to a conclusion.

"Correlation, not causation," Castle says in response. "It seems to me just as likely that you're protecting the murderers, not Beckett. This file you say you have, the one that's protecting Beckett. If you were her defender, you'd go to the cops or the press. It makes me wonder," Castle says speculatively, "if there's really a file at all."

"I would have thought that a writer would have a better grasp of characters," Smith pokes. "I'm not her defender, you are. Don't presume to know my motivations. You know all that you're going to, so make your decision. Keep her – and yourself – off the case or put all of you at risk from people who do not tolerate risks. That's your choice." Smith stops to look at Castle, staring to drive his point home. He flinches slightly in annoyance, causing Castle to jump in quickly.

"So, now what?" Castle says in a fearful voice, wide arm gestures and a step toward Smith instantly putting the shadowy operator on alert. "I shut things down and what – I never hear from you again?" he asks.

 _But trust that you'll be hearing from us. Next time, we'll set the terms of the meeting._

"I find I like talking to you," Smith says with a tone of distaste, "no more than I like reading your books, which is to say not at all. It is my hope that we never speak again. Do your job and we won't need to," he finishes ominously, before another thought occurs to him. "Of course, don't do your job and you'll probably be unable to speak, so perhaps it doesn't matter."

 _Beckett's done, time to wrap this up before he causes any trouble for me._

"I'll shut it down," Castle promises in a defeated tone as his shoulder slump. "I'll figure out a way to keep Beckett in check even if I'm not at the precinct."

The fedora makes Smith's nod of acceptance more obvious than would otherwise be the case. "As you should," he says with finality. "A word of advice, Mr. Castle?" he suggests, then continues at the writer's hesitant nod. "The detective has been on a path to her own demise since joining the force. You had your opportunity to walk away, but it's too late now."

 _I don't need Beckett to hear this._

"Your affection for her is too obvious," Smith explains. "You are a liability in either state of the world – if the detective continues to investigate, they can destroy her by taking you just as they took her mother. And if they decide to eliminate her, they'll take you, too, to protect against any vendetta that your misplaced emotion might instigate. Your only chance now is to shut this down completely."

 _And that's exactly what we're going to do, just not in the way you think._

"But how?" Castle laments.

"Knock her out. Knock her up. Get her a villa in Tuscany. Get her a casket. It doesn't matter, as long as it stops," Smith says. "You're creative, figure something out. But on your own," he says, lifting his wrist as if to check a watch. "It's time for you to leave."

 _For now, but we'll be talking again soon._

With a dramatic sigh, Castle shoves his hands into his pockets and turns toward the nearest door of the warehouse to which Smith had sent him. Since the warehouse borders the river, Castle fights the urge to jump in and unleash all manner of fury following their meeting. But, instead, he does as he's told ( _which would shock Beckett_ ) and leaves, walking out of the building and to his car, apparently anxious to depart. As arranged with Beckett, however, he drives just two blocks before pulling into an alley and waiting.

 _She's a trained detective and a Gamma. If I try to go escort her, or even make it apparent that I'm worried about her, 'Apples' won't save me._

Fidgeting as his anxiety ratchets up with each passing minute, Castle's thinking seriously about sneaking back to the warehouse when a sharp rap on the passenger window prompts a less-than-manly squeak. Chagrined that she approached unseen, especially given his concerns, Castle unlocks the door in full anticipation of what's coming.

"Wow, Castle, you can really hit the high notes," Beckett chuckles as she slips into the car, belting up and motioning for him to get them moving. _She's all jokes, but she wants to get away from here, too. Let's lighten the mood a little before we talk about what happened in there._

"Just my stage training, Beckett," Castle assures her. "Besides, you know that old adage about teaching a man to fish?"

"You mean the one that goes: 'catch a man a fish and feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and he still won't catch as many as a woman?'" Beckett asks with a smile.

"That's not exactly how I remember it," Castle replies flatly.

"Oh," Beckett replies, seemingly perplexed. "How about 'teach a man to fish and he'll regale you with fish stories while you still end up doing all the work?' That seems appropriate," she says while cutting a look at him. "Or maybe, 'teach a man to fish and remove him from the dating pool?'"

 _It's not surprising that I lasted so long with only conversations like this. Even after we've finally found our way to each other, they provide enough electricity to power my fantasies._

"Alright, alright," Castle capitulates with a laugh. "I was trying to adapt the adage to teaching a man to stand sentry duty and boring him out of his skull, but I give up."

"Oh, Rick," Castle says with a saucy look and a hand that lands on his thigh. "Perhaps not about fishing or standing watch, but there's _so much_ I can teach you," she husks as her hand drifts higher.

"I don't know, Kate," Castle growls back, "I might be a slow learner. You might need to spend some extra time with me."

"That, Mr. Rodgers," she coos his original name while her hand continues to explore, knocking him back to a time when he was the same age Beckett was in her modelling photo of the tennis outfit, "is why they created detention."

 _Schoolboy fantasy achieved? Check!_

"Damn," Castle curses, pulling Beckett out their wordplay.

"Do we need to just cuddle?" she asks with her own impish look.

 _Schoolboy embarrassment avoided? Check!_

"You know me better than that," Castle scoffs. "No, I'm just frustrated that we're here already. I was enjoying our conversation."

"I can tell," Beckett replies after a quick glimpse at his lap. "Do we need to wait a few minutes before we go inside?" she asks as she licks her lips.

 _You just don't stop, do you? I love it._

"I'll be fine," Castle replies with a roll of his eyes.

Minutes later, they're seated at the diner, watching the retreating form of their waitress.

"See, Beckett, no problem," he gloats. "I'm totally the master of my own domain. No embarrassment, despite your best efforts."

"Only because the waitress was too busy checking out your ass to notice your front," Beckett laughs, then laughs harder at his surprised reaction.

"She was checking out my ass?" he asks. _And you didn't growl at her?_

"I assume that's what the wink and the thumbs-up were about," Beckett replies. "Either that, or she was hitting on me."

"Now I really wish I'd noticed," Castle replies with raised brows.

"You'll live," Beckett says wryly, signaling a shift to a more serious topic. "So, time to check on him?"

"Sure," Castle replies while pulling out his phone and loading up an app. "How many did you plant on him?"

"Three," Beckett answers, smiling proudly at his surprised reaction.

"I saw the one slip behind the lapel of his trenchcoat," Castle says with a speculative look. "His hat?"

"Yes," Beckett agrees, impressed with his guess. "It's behind the band on the back of his hat. "That's the one that made him flinch – he felt the hat move. But you distracted him beautifully with the shifting posture and big arm movements."

"Did you notice that he wasn't armed?" Castle asks, curious about how comfortable Beckett felt in her Gamma activities.

"I tried, but just a bit. Didn't work for me," she says with a shrug, "but I was pretty worried about staying hidden and planting the trackers on him. I figured from his posture that he wasn't packing."

"Not in any sense of the word," Castle smirks, getting a look of distaste from Beckett in return.

"I wanted to get one on his shoes," Beckett continues, trying to refocus the conversation. "But I couldn't figure out how to get a place that wouldn't be obvious when he takes them off. So, the last one is inside the back belt-loop of his coat."

"Nice," Castle praises while reaching out. Feeling immature, she accepts the 'feeding the birds' and is slightly chagrined by how pleased she is by the gesture. "The coat might travel with him, but the hat will probably go back into a closet where it'll sit until his next covert assignation."

"You just love this stuff, don't you?" Beckett speculates with a grin, looking at the screen of his phone quickly before returning her gaze to him. "A secret meeting, a shadowy character of questionable allegiance…"

"A super-hot, badass femme fatale…," he adds helpfully.

"And tech gear worthy of a curmudgeonly quartermaster," she says with a smile and a nod at his phone. "Who needs to write Bond? You're living it."

 _Hmmm. I'll have to come up with a suitable Bond-name for Beckett that won't get me killed. Valerie Uptuous? Ophelia Oliver? Or maybe something Russian – I'd like to hear that accent again…_

"Best decision I ever… hold on, here he is," Castle says, noticing that his phone's now displaying a map with a blinking red dot at its center. "All three trackers are still together, so that's good. Looks like he's heading toward Connecticut. I hope he's not heading to Boston or fleeing the country or anything."

"And then we could catch the 495 to head around Boston, then just two more hours to Portland," Beckett says as a diversion as her hand casually covers the phone. Looking up, Castle greets the waitress as she arrives with their burgers, milkshake, and fries. This time, he's attentive enough to catch the appraising look the waitresses levels at him and the wink she directs at Beckett.

"I like this place," Castle decides. "We should come here again."

"You haven't even tried the food yet," Beckett laughs.

"Doesn't matter," Castle replies with a wicked grin before taking an enormous bite of his cheeseburger. Rolling her eyes at his inelegant chomping, Beckett makes for the milkshake. Casting her a dismayed look, Castle can't do anything but try to choke down his mouthful of burger before she drains their communal milkshake. Enjoying his disadvantage, Beckett increases the torture by playing with the straw in a way that would have any nearby parents covering their children's eyes.

 _Is this supposed to dissuade me from repeating this scenario?_

Finally swallowing and coming up for air, Castle quirks a brow at his partner while trying to peer into the silver cup to see if there's any milkshake remaining. Grumbling enough to get an apology in the form of a foot that massages his calf under the table, Castle's mood improves dramatically and they enjoy themselves while jousting to devour the dwindling pile of fries.

"Hey, Rick?" Beckett asks, distracting Castle from the runic symbols he's drawing in ketchup with a french fry.

"Sorry," he grins sheepishly, popping the fry into his mouth.

"Thank you, babe," Beckett says seriously. "What he said about your attraction to me being too obvious – I really put you through the ringer getting us this far. You shouldn't have needed to worry about shady deals and threats on top of everything else." Reaching across the table with both hands, she takes hold of his hand and squeezes tight. "Thank you," she repeats.

Lifting his hand so that he can kiss both of hers, Castle looks at her while waiting for her eyes to lift from their hands to meet his. "Worth it," he says simply.

"You ready to head out?" Beckett prompts after a short interval of them staring at each other like besotted school kids, to the immense amusement of the waitress who drops off their check. After Castle lays out enough cash to include a healthy tip, they head back to the car, this time with Beckett driving as Castle watches the progress of Mr. Smith.

"Looks like he's almost home," Castle shares as Beckett guides them to the precinct. "He's definitely in a residential neighborhood."

"That app tracks his route, right?" Beckett asks as she pulls into the motor pool.

"Yeah – it's easier to see on the laptop, but this stores all the data. It'll be fun to see his route – he meandered all over the place on his way home. The battery life on those trackers isn't great, but we'll have all the location data until they run out of power," Castle answers before unbuckling and following Beckett to the elevator.

"And then we'll pay him a little visit," Beckett says, sounding like she's very much looking forward to confronting the man who could've ended her quest but chose not to. "After we go through his property records and know everything there is to know about him."

Catching a few mildly surprised looks that they're here without the rest of the team and off-shift, the partners make their way to the homicide bullpen. In place back at her desk, Beckett fires up her computer while Castle checks the app again.

"He's definitely stationary," Castle confirms. "That's a hellacious commute," he says idly.

"Maybe obstruction of justice doesn't pay well enough for a condo in the city," Beckett snarks as she connects to a database of property records. "Alright, Castle, give me his address. Let's see if we can't figure out who we're dealing with here."

* * *

 **Victoria Gates**

"Hello sir," Beckett says from the doorway to the captain's office, "are you ready for my personnel evaluation?"

 _Time to see what this ruse is about._

"Yes, detective," Gates says after checking her watch and rising, grabbing the folder of Beckett's evaluations before rounding the desk. As she steps into the hallway, Beckett redirects her to the stairs.

"I'd prefer that we use the HR conference room," Beckett explains. "Our conference room is more of a fishbowl than I'd like for this conversation."

 _I suspect so. You've never cared about the location of your previous meetings, detective. In fact, you've never been happy to participate in an evaluation, much less initiated one of our meetings._

"Even though we're nearing the end-of-shift and there won't be many people around?" Gates asks rhetorically, getting only a Beckett shrug in response.

Moments later, Beckett pushes open the door to the HR conference room, and makes her way in. As was apparently planned, Castle's already waiting in a chair, into which he settles again after rising with the entry of the ladies.

 _Lovely. And the writer, too._

"So," Gates says in a surprisingly patient voice. "Not only is this not a personnel evaluation, but I have to suffer the presence of your partner as well," she says while cutting a look at Castle, whose only reaction is a hint of a smile. "What do we need to discuss that we couldn't talk about in my office?"

Taking a moment to look at Castle with her own smile, Beckett turns back to the captain.

"Sir," Beckett says as she takes a seat and waits for Gates to do the same. "Can we trust you?"

 _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

Gates' face briefly reflects confusion before it flickers to anger. "You can trust me to do my job. What's this about?"

"Sir," Beckett repeats, unaffected by Gates' answer or anger. " _Can we trust you?_ "

Taking a moment before she answers, Gates looks around the room. _My best detective orchestrated a plot to allow us a chance to talk without raising eyebrows. We're talking away from our desks, in a room where her partner had arrived in advance, perhaps in preparation. And all this was done with complete knowledge of my likely reactions and any resulting career ramifications._

Taking a deep breath, Gates answers again in a more moderate tone. "You can trust me to be a good captain, to protect the interests of my officers, my precinct, and the NYPD."

Beckett looks at Castle, who replies with only a nod. _Interesting team dynamic. He still hasn't said a word. They definitely set this up in advance. He's here as a show of support, but they're leaving him quiet – probably to avoid angering me. As if he needs to talk to do that._

"I'm going to tell you a story," Beckett replies, prompting a chuff of laughter and a smirk from her partner.

"Isn't that _his_ job?" Gates asks sourly with a nod toward Castle, who again ignores the jibe.

"Once upon a time," Beckett continues undeterred, "NYPD justice had a rougher edge. Captains and their charges had, or at least assumed, greater latitude in dealing with issues that arose on their beats. I imagine your time in IA provides a context," Beckett pauses as she looks at Gates.

 _And the reason for the secrecy already comes into focus. What have these two stumbled into?_

Following her captain's nod, Beckett continues. "Perhaps rationalizing their behavior by looking at other corruption, the antagonists in this story grow frustrated with the inability to curtail the inroads made by organized crime. Not only are gangsters back on the streets within hours of arrest, but they're making money in amounts unimaginable to detectives at the time, or even now. Spurred by jealousy, greed, or some other dark emotion, certain police officers opt to kidnap these gangsters for ransom rather than arrest them."

 _Oh, Lord,_ Gates thinks as she rubs her forehead. _I didn't hear anything like this in IA. Where did this happen? How deep does it go? Is it still happening?!_ Looking back at Beckett, who is patiently waiting, Gates prompts her with a "Proceed, please."

"The operation seems to start with two partners," Beckett narrates. "The original cast doubles, though. A new officer is assigned to work with the corrupt partners and is swept up in the scheme, whatever qualms he has sacrificed on the altar of the thin blue line." Beckett can't help some venom from entering her tone, and the captain's stony look conveys her own thoughts on such behavior. "Worse, an assistant DA catches wind of the operation. Rather than shut it down, he assumes control, blackmails the officers to secure his silence, uses the proceeds to build his campaign war chest."

 _No, no, no. This goes even higher? The DA? The mayor? Not the mayor – I doubt Mr. Castle would be sitting so quietly if his friend, if his ticket into my precinct, was corrupt._

"The demise of the scheme begins when the kidnapping scheme collides with an undercover investigation, resulting in the death of an FBI agent at the hands of an NYPD officer." _This better be fiction. Please let this be fiction._ "The officers frame one of the mobsters for the death, but the introduction of the feds into the picture convinces the officers to wind down their operation," Beckett says before winding down herself.

There's a pregnant pause while Beckett collects her thoughts. _Is she having second thoughts about confiding in me? Something's not right_. Her suspicions are confirmed when Castle, still silent, reaches out and squeezes his partner's shoulder in a sign of support. The gesture seems to invigorate the detective, or at least to provide enough energy to continue. _I might have underestimated Mr. Castle's significance to the work of Detective Beckett's team. Or to Detective Beckett._

"The mobster framed for the murder doesn't fare well in the courts. He's hardly reliable and there are no witnesses beyond those participating in the frame-up. Only after seven years does an attorney take interest in his case. This attorney is… tenacious," Beckett seems to stumble, "unwilling to rely on the shoddy reports and free from the control of the DA or the limited budget of the public defender's office. The fresh look raises attention on the case, rings alarm bells, raises red flags. The conspirators are at risk of discovery."

 _But they were not discovered. As if it were not already, this is where the story becomes a tragedy._

"The attorney is murdered, knifed in an alley. The investigating officer, a founding member of the conspiracy, tells the family it's a case of random gang violence. He does not tell them that three other people supporting the attorney's efforts were also 'randomly' killed in the next few months, a connection that goes unnoticed for years," Beckett pauses, casting a look at Castle. "The case goes cold. The conspirators disperse, to retirement," Beckett pauses, "to higher office," she pauses again before looking Gates directly in the eye, "or to ascend to the role of Captain of the 12th precinct. Where he watches over the efforts of the attorney's daughter as she tries to find her mother's murderer."

"No…," Gates can't help but groan aloud as she watches silent tears break free and begin the slow crawl down Beckett's cheeks. Silence reigns for several minutes, until Castle hands his partner a handkerchief.

"Detective Beckett, Kate, I…," Gates begins before Beckett cuts her off.

"We scheduled this meeting for several reasons," Beckett says directly after drying her cheeks. _'We scheduled,' not 'I scheduled.' This isn't Beckett's usual MO._

"First, we want to inform you that we're pursuing this case. We're not asking for permission," Beckett says defiantly, "and we're not going to work on it openly."

 _Last I checked,_ I'm _the captain of the precinct, and_ I'm _responsible for our case and staffing decisions._

"Now, wait just a minute…," Gates interjects before Beckett continues without pause.

"Second, you should know that we're not involving anyone not on my team. You've been informed of our intentions, but you're alone. However," Beckett says with a look of open defiance, "while we don't know who to trust at the NYPD, we're unwilling to run the risk of being silenced in the same ways as my mother and her team. Castle's got several contacts in and out of law enforcement. Any progress we make will be recorded and secured, with fail-safes in place to ensure distribution in the case of our demise."

 _This is my precinct and I won't tolerate lawlessness or vigilantism. You've gotten far too comfortable if you think you can make your own rules._

"Stop right there," Gates interjects, unwilling to be shut down. "Now you've gone well beyond breach of regulations and skated right into illegal activity. Pursue that route and you'll lose your freedom as well as your job."

"You can try," Beckett challenges in response, her look for Gates one of disdain until Castle's gentle hand on her arm calms her by a degree. "I assure you that we've been exceptionally careful. All you know is that I've told you a bedtime story, the condensed version of a plotline rejected by my partner. You don't know the players, the dead drop locations, or enough to secure any kind of warrant. And while I'd prefer to pursue this case as a detective, I'll continue as a civilian if that's what it takes."

"You _won't_ be a civilian," Gates growls in response, "you'll be an inmate. _No one_ is above the law. I'd have thought your story would've taught you that."

Gates' declaration starts a staredown between the two women as each glares at the other. Beckett moves first, literally, starting to stand as she says "If you think for one minute…"

Castle's gentle hand on her arm holds her back, stops her motion and her words.

"Hold on," Castle says gently, maintaining his hand on Beckett's arm as she sits back down. Looking from her to Gates, Castle plays peacemaker. "Let's take a step back," he says, winning a piercing glare from each woman.

 _Mr. Castle's going to be the voice of reason? This is hopeless._

"Captain," Castle says, addressing her directly. "Aside from how it was presented to you, what's your concern with Beckett's plan?"

"She's conflicted, obviously," Gates answers immediately, as if the answer need not be articulated. "She can't work her own mother's case. Or the case against her former captain," she adds in a more offended tone.

"Tell me this," Castle asks in a tone all the more infuriating for its reasonableness, "to whom would you entrust this investigation? You've already heard that it spanned years, more than a decade. It involved multiple officers, with likely moves across precincts and promotions into positions of prominence. Who in the NYPD is certain to be isolated enough to pursue this without raising questions?"

"'Without raising questions?'" Gates quotes back at Castle in frustration. "We want to raise questions! That's the whole point!"

"Only if you want Beckett dead," Castle replies with a grim finality. "Who do you think shot her at Montgomery's funeral? Why do you think she was shot?"

"You have _no_ evidence that they two are connected…," Gates begins, before noting the look on Castle's face. Turning to Beckett, she sees the same look. "You do have evidence, don't you?"

"We have documents relating to our story," Beckett clarifies. "Any admissibility as 'evidence' to justify a warrant or prosecution is suspect, at least for now."

"And where did you get these documents?" Gates asks. _Or do I not want to know?_

"From Captain Montgomery," Beckett says quietly. When she remains quiet, Castle picks up the explanation. "It was his insurance policy. When it was clear that it was falling apart around him, he sent the file to a friend. We liberated the file."

"Liberated?" Gates asks with a look of confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Beckett takes over again, "that he doesn't know we have the file. He doesn't even know that we've identified him. Although he's about to find out," she finishes with a grim smile.

"What are you waiting for?" Gates asks in exasperation. "You've bulled through or ignored standard procedure so far, why not just keep going?" she says with a wave of her arms.

"We wanted to talk to you, first," Beckett answers, ignoring the jibe. "Things might get hairy very quickly. We wanted to tell you what's going on, see if we're doing this as civilians or not."

"Even if I accept this story, and even if I'm reticent to bring in other investigators from the NYPD, tell me one good reason why I shouldn't call the feds, dump this in their laps," Gates challenges.

"Oh, I'll give you a reason alright," Beckett answers with a gleam in her eye. "Actually," she says after a moment's thought, "Castle, would you like the honors? We wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

 _Interesting. He looks more surprised by that comment than I am. What's going on with Detective Beckett?_

"How comfortable would you feel calling the feds," Castle asks in a conversational tone, "if you knew that the ADA from Beckett's story is now a member of Congress?"

 _Who's gone to Congress after working in the NYC DA's office? Hastings was governor before running for senate ages ago, but the junior senator… the dates work. Damn it all to hell._

"Bracken?" Gates asks, fearing the answer. Receiving only resigned nods in return, Gates blows out a long breath. _A senator. A senator who's covered up a history of kidnapping, extortion, obstruction, and murder. Heaven knows what else he's done or who else he's harmed._

"What are you smiling about, Mr. Castle?" Gates suddenly asks in annoyance, having caught Castle's slow grin.

"You," he answers simply. "I'm smiling about you, because you've just turned the corner."

"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" the captain asks in a deceptively calm manner.

"It means," Beckett picks up, "that you've accepted the story and are thinking about the implications of bringing down a senator. The bad…"

"A huge war-chest, access to paramilitary experts, regular travels beyond your jurisdiction," Castle explains helpfully.

"And the good," Beckett concludes.

"A chance to avenge the innocent, rehabilitate the reputation of the 12th, and a prize like you couldn't have dreamed about in Internal Affairs," Castle elaborates again.

"I'm not in this for personal gain," Gates objects, uncomfortable with the suggestion.

"You'd damn well better be," Castle replies with some heat. "As the head of the 12th, as a captain of the NYPD, you'd damn well better want to pull down a criminal of this magnitude. The better it's done, the better for you and the NYPD. And we're your best shot at him."

"Why," Gates asks after leveling an assessing stare at Castle, "do I have the feeling your comment is tied up in whatever led you to be so effective in coming to the aid of Detective Beckett and her team?"

"Coincidence, I'm sure," Castle says self-assuredly, confirming her comment with his attitude if not with his words. Gates isn't pleased with his reaction, and noticing Beckett's smirk further sours her mood. _And again you use charm to deflect my question. Your approach is getting old, Mr. Castle. Your refusal to play is only making me more curious._

"Well, you seem to have an answer for everything, don't you?" Gates asks in annoyance. "Shall I thank you for at least staging this farce to inform me of the actions that you intend to take regardless of what I say?" she growls as she looks back and forth between the partners. "I suppose I've been flanked, too? Have you already talked with your buddy the mayor?" _Back to the boys club again. I'm so goddamned tired of having to fight for a seat at the table._

"Yes and no," Castle answers oddly. _Is he… embarrassed?_ "Look, Captain. We're sorry that this meeting has seemed peremptory, but the fact of the matter is that we're literally trusting you with our lives here. The people we're hunting have made it abundantly clear that they're content to kill anyone who even looks in their direction, and we're planning to do a lot more than that. You're going to be our lifeline, the only person on the inside who really knows what we're up to."

 _Damn you. That actually sounds rational. And flattering._

After receiving a nod from his partner, Castle turns back to the captain. "I have spoken to Bob, but not about this. If you want to approach him, we'll trust you to figure out how to do that. But be warned – I know he's got at least one mole in his administration. So, if you approach him, keep that in mind. He won't be surprised to hear from you."

"And why is that?" Gates asks, noticing that Beckett's suddenly willing to defer to her partner and seemingly unwilling to meet her eyes.

"Because I asked him to go to bat for us if you have an objection to our romantic relationship," Castle answers simply, voice low and raw. Reaching out, he links hands with Beckett as they await Gates' reaction to this development.

 _And now it all comes into focus. The joint effort, Detective Beckett's approach to this meeting, the comments on how their investigation has progressed. Well, it's about damned time. I'm happy for you both. But, I'm happier for me. No more loose cannons on my deck. And call me petty, but I'm not sure I see the need to be too accepting too quickly._

"I see," Gates says seriously, interested to see how they handle her scrutiny. To her surprise, there is no flinch, no shame. The partners meet her gaze almost passively, outwardly content. She thinks she sees a ripple on Beckett's cheek, almost as if it'd been rubbed, but it must've just been a nervous tic. "I'm going to… reserve judgment on this development. We have enough to worry about right now. So," she says, staring at their linked hands and giving up when they don't break the clasp after several long moments, "let's talk about how we're going to run this."

* * *

A/N2: I've been trying to keep this story light and fun, but I didn't find much humor in the encounters described above. Sorry about that, but this chapter marks the continued turn started last chapter. Also, apologies for another delayed update – I'm afraid that things are going to get worse before they get better. Rather than fun writing, it's recommendation letter season, so I need to shift focus for a bit. I'll still use this to let off some steam, but given that I'm already neglecting stories that I'm anxious to read, I'm not sure I'll make my next update next weekend.

Now, for a little extra diversion. Back in chapter two, I named some of the authors that might've inspired some of the ideas in Running Water. The first author I named, Neil Gaiman, is a favorite of mine. Goodreads published an interview with him last week that caught my eye for two reasons.

This quote made me think of fan fiction: "You know, it's amazing how many stories start with you going, this is terrible! But what would happen if…? And you wind up just fixing things. Or occasionally breaking them."

This quote caught my eye because it sounded like something Castle might say: "I do tend to see people as stories. Things become story-shaped. But also on a more general note I tend to see people as fundamentally good-hearted, sensible, well intentioned, and occasionally mislead." This seems to jibe with Castle's surprisingly forgiving nature.

Anyway, apologies for the nerdly aside. But I'd recommend the interview even if you're not a Gaiman fan.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Castle asks from his seat beside her in the taxi.

 _Not at all. But it should at least be interesting._

"No," Beckett says with a grimace. "Putting two of our biggest detractors in the same place might prove to be a poor decision, but we need a safe place to talk and the new boat seems perfect."

Castle cuts her a suspicious look before voicing his objection. "I'm not sure your characterization is accurate. When I called Jonas, he actually sounded _happy_. With you!" Castle says in amazement. "Your campaign to win over my friends and family continues unabated."

"He just likes the name of the new boat," Beckett says with a devious look, reveling in Castle's discomfort at being out of the loop. "There might be a risqué connotation that probably appeals to him."

" _Seriously_?! I can't believe he got to see it first. And Gates!" he grouses. "We'd better get there before she does."

 _You must be an absolute terror at Christmas, partner. Not one for delayed gratification?_

"Which wouldn't have been a problem," Beckett answers primly, "but for Mr. We-have-to-go-back-for-the-champagne!'"

"It's her maiden voyage, Beckett," Castle tries to explain again. "We've got enough on our plate without offending the water deities. Certain formalities must be observed," he intones seriously.

"Perhaps," Beckett allows to improve his mood. "You'll see her new name soon enough, Rick. Besides," she whispers in his ear after leaning over him in the back seat of their ride, "haven't we proven that some things are better after prolonged anticipation?" she husks, leaving him red and flustered after her tongue darts out to tease his earlobe.

"You're an evil woman, Kate," Castle sighs as his head falls back against the headrest.

"But you love me," Beckett replies playfully.

"Of course I do," he answers, still looking at the ceiling of the cab but now wearing a happy smile.

"Good," Beckett says while reaching over to tug on his hand. "So, history repeats itself, Rick. You've worn me down. If you _really_ want it," she says with a pause and a lascivious look, "I'll give you one hint."

Nodding absurdly like a child who's confirming that he's been good enough to justify a reward, Castle pulls a smile out of his partner. "Yes, please!"

"Okay, here it is," she says before taking a dramatic pause to drive Castle a little more crazy. " _Scruffy_."

"That's it?" Castle answers in dismay. "One word's all I get?" When his best puppy dog eyes fail to provoke a confession, he gives the clue a little thought. "The _Nerf-herder?_ " he guesses.

"Not even close," Beckett laughs. "Think books, not movies. Now come on, we're almost there," she says with a nod out the window. As usual, they're having the cab drop them a few blocks from the pier so that they can complete the journey on foot.

Nearly ten minutes later, they're approaching the pier from the south when they see Captain Gates approaching from the north. Meeting in the small drop-off area for the pier, they link up and head toward the boat.

"Good evening," Gates greets them almost cordially. _Interesting – maybe she's a little less fierce outside of the precinct._

"Good evening, sir," they reply in kind. Castle gestures with his arm to indicate the way to slip 47.

"Nice neighborhood," Gates says with a quick look at the yachts, many of which are sparkly and new in anticipation of or following the insurance settlements relating to the unfortunate accident with the marina's fuel station. "Just the three of us?"

"About that…," Castle answers, looking a little uncomfortable. "I've got a friend, Jonas, who lives on the boat. He'll take us out on the water. I…," Castle starts to explain before stalling out.

"Yes, Mr. Castle?" Gates asks, looking amused at his stumbling.

 _This should to be interesting. Maybe Gates will take his warning more seriously than I did._

"Let's stop for a second," Castle suggests. When his two companions come to a halt and face him, Castle bites the bullet. "I need to apologize in advance," he manages to say.

"This ought to be good," Gates replies with a raised brow, which arches higher after she notices Beckett's nod, "since I can't even recall you apologizing in retrospect."

"As Beckett can attest, Jonas is a bit… rough," Castle tries to explain while Beckett's nod grows more vigorous. "He's got a tongue as smooth as gravel and absolutely no filter. I'll consider it a major success if he hasn't embarrassed or infuriated you within five minutes."

 _It took him far less time with me._

"Charming," Gates replies flatly, restarting them on their walk toward slip 47. "Is this a quality that you cultivate in your friends and boarders?"

"Not usually," Castle answers, deciding to opt for honesty. "But Jonas' brother died while helping me, after he saved my life. So, Jonas is welcome to stay as long as he likes."

"I run a precinct, Mr. Castle," Gates replies after a short nod. "I'm somewhat used to colorful language and maladjusted personalities," she says with a small grin and quirked brow.

 _Present company excluded, right? Right?_

"Okay, just…," Castle struggles again. "Just try to be patient. You can take any frustrations out on me later," he offers with a weak smile.

 _Oh, not a good move, Castle. From her look, Gates is almost looking forward to meeting Jonas now, knowing that she can give you trouble about it later._

"Is he really…" Gates starts to ask as she turns to Beckett.

"Yes," Beckett interrupts. "Yes, really."

Gates is still looking at Beckett when they're both distracted by Castle's guffaw. Knowing the cause, Beckett can't help but to smile and blush slightly.

" _Tuggedly Handsome_?" Gates asks after taking note of the boat's name. "Your ego really knows no bounds, does it, Mr. Castle?"

"It wasn't me!" Castle proclaims his innocence to a skeptical captain. When Gates clearly doesn't believe him, he throws a pouting look of betrayal at Beckett, who merely smiles in response.

 _I was looking forward to your reaction, Rick, but having the captain here just makes it that much better!_

"So how does 'scruffy'… oh," Castle pauses. " _Scruffy the Tugboat_. Alexis loved that book," he says with a wistful smile, which Beckett mirrors.

The commotion seems to have roused Jonas, who backs out of the boat's cabin while tugging on a cooler. As if Castle's introductory warning wasn't sufficient to catch her attention, Captain Gates' first impression of Jonas is based on his bulbous backside lurching toward them, his threadbare shorts riding as low in the back as any stereotypical plumber. Beckett's holding a hand demurely over her mouth when Gates cuts her a quick look, while Castle has a look of forbearance that Gates usually wears when dealing with him.

Letting go of the cooler's handle, Jonas stands upright while wiping his brow, then his nose, with his forearm. Turning to face the group, Beckett's surprisingly pleased to see that he looks much the same as he did on their first meeting, right down to the greasy undershirt and garish Hawaiian-print shirt (orange and yellow this time). _There you go, Captain – the full Jonas experience_.

"Hah!" Jonas crows as he takes in the small group. " _This_ is Captain Gates? She's a chick!" Jonas chuckles derisively. "You got kicked out by a chick!"

Jonas is still chortling while Castle tries to make the best of a bad situation. "Captain Victoria Gates, this is Jonas. Jonas," Castle says with a sigh, "please be kind."

"Whatever," Jonas replies with a look that clearly indicates his intention to leave his usual behavior fully unconstrained. "So, Vicky…," he says as he turns to Gates.

"Actually," Gates replies in a surprisingly moderate tone of voice, "why don't we just call each other 'captain'?"

Jonas pauses for a moment, his grumpy desire to taunt Gates' seemingly at odds with his appreciation for being addressed as captain. The dilemma seems to bore him almost immediately. "Whatever," he repeats. "Food and drink," he says as he kicks the cooler on his way to the ladder before dropping an affected curtsy, "for the captain and the princess. Let's get moving. I got plans tonight." His version of pleasant formalities completed, Jonas turns to the ladder and treats them to another view of his behind as he ascends to the captain's chair.

"Come on," Castle sighs as he walks out along the dock against which the side of the _Tuggedly Handsome_ is moored. "Probably best that we don't dawdle." Extracting the bottle of champagne from his bag as they walk, he hands it to Beckett as they approach the bow. "Will you do the honors?"

"No inspiring speech, Mr. Castle?" Gates asks. _She's in a much better mood than I would've expected after her first dose of Jonas._

"The more attention we draw to intentionally spilling alcohol," Castle stage-whispers, "the more likely we are to rile our skipper."

Gates nods at this small bit of wisdom and stands aside, leaving the way clear for Beckett. Comically, Beckett's arms prove too short to reach the bow of the boat, as she nearly topples into the water after her first swing-and-miss with the champagne bottle. Castle recognizes her dilemma and takes hold of her hand, allowing her to lean far enough over the water to reach the bow. _Too bad Gates is here, otherwise Rick could've just floated me out to the bow._ She almost laughs as she feels an invisible band wrap around her waist, an extra source of support for her efforts that Gates can't see.

With an easy motion, Beckett swings the bottle again, this time connecting. The bottle shatters, the broken pieces of glass caught by the net webbing in which it was wrapped. She turns her head to the sound of muted clapping.

"You're a brave woman, Detective Beckett," Gates notes as she watches Beckett dangle over the water. "I can't believe you didn't just get dumped in the river."

"He's better trained than that," Beckett answers with a sly grin.

"Woof, woof," Castle answers sarcastically as he pulls Beckett back, prompting a small chuckle from both women. "There – deities appeased. We'd better get aboard before we get left behind."

Preparing to bend down to uncleat a mooring line, Castle's surprised by Gates, who reaches out to halt his movement with a hand to his forearm. It's difficult to tell who is more shocked by this gesture – Beckett or Castle.

 _Oh boy, here comes the blowback from Jonas' greeting._

"Mr. Castle," Gates says with an odd tone. "You gave me fair warning about Jonas. But, before we get started…," she trails off, apparently collecting her words. "I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye. It sounds like Jonas has heard some of your discontent with me," she says, causing Castle to flush slightly and look down. "His chauvinism aside, though, I actually appreciate what he said."

 _What?_

As this, Castle looks up in surprise. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Based on his comments," Gates explains, inflecting the last word, "he knew only that you were asked to leave by the captain. Even in your anger you must not've mentioned my gender or probably even my race. For as hard as I've had to fight to reach this position, it's probably the highest compliment I've ever been paid."

"It's just…," Castle struggles a brief moment before shrugging. "It's just the way it should be, right? Gender didn't have anything to do with our disagreement or your decision."

"Exactly," Gates says quietly. "Now," she says more brusquely, "let's get this briefing started, shall we? I want to hear these unorthodox ideas you mentioned and maybe add some of my own. And, I'd still like to get some rest tonight."

"Sure," Castle says with a little laugh. "Kate, why don't you show the captain aboard while I get us unmoored?"

"Right this way, sir," Beckett gestures back toward the stern.

After enough steps to put them out of earshot of the writer, Gates turns to Beckett with a raised brow. "Well-trained indeed."

Blushing slightly, Beckett motions Gates to step over the gunwale and onto the deck. "I'm not sure that I can take much credit on that front. Though a reformed playboy, I think he's always been surprisingly enlightened on gender issues. Martha and Alexis raised him well."

"Reformed, eh?" Gates says with a piercing look and upturned lips.

Beckett blushes again. "Maybe I can take some credit for that."

Before Gates can reply, their attention is distracted again. "Hey!" calls Jonas from above. "Why's the man doing all the work?! And why's it taking so long?"

"He just answered his own question," Gates sighs. "There'd better be wine in that cooler."

* * *

 **Castle**

"Good evening, Mr. Smith. Have you heard the good news about our lord and savior?" Castle asks sarcastically to a slack-jawed Smith.

"Get out of here!" Smith growls fiercely. "You'll get us all killed!"

So focused on Castle, Smith misses Beckett's economical movements at the side of the door. His wrist is cuffed before he notices her presence or intentions.

"What are you doing?!" he whisper-growls, trying to yank his arm back but finding no give from the detective's grasp on the empty cuff.

"Preparing to arrest you for obstruction, obviously," Beckett answers with an eye roll. "Is he always this slow on the uptake?" she asks casually of a smirking Castle.

"Not sure," Castle answers gamely. "He's usually too busy issuing threats or pseudo-poetic enticements."

"You need to leave," Smith says, reaching for a voice of authority. "There are people inside!"

"No," Castle says seriously, "there aren't." Something about the certainty in his voice knocks Smith back on his heels.

"How are we going to do this, Mr. Smith?" Beckett asks. "Are you going to invite us in and give us enough to walk away, or would you prefer to talk at the precinct?"

"Come in," Smith sighs, trying to step back but limited by Beckett's cuff, which she doesn't remove as a way to keep him focused. In fact, once inside the door, Beckett whirls him around to cuff both wrists behind his back.

"You must know I'm an attorney," Smith growls, "and that this is an unlawful detention."

"Do you really want her to place you under arrest?" Castle asks while smirking, "Besides, we both know that you wouldn't live long enough to complain. William Bracken isn't one to leave loose ends, especially ones who might have reason to talk."

The mention of Bracken's name hits Smith like a hammer, leaving him shuffling a few steps to slump into a couch in the living room just inside the front door.

"Let me go and promise to leave quietly, and I'll tell you the story," Smith offers.

"And the file?" Castle prompts.

"You were right," Smith says in a low, defeated tone. "There is no file."

Castle offers no reaction while Beckett reaches into her pocket and withdraws a burner phone. The room is silent while she dials and holds the phone to her ear. "Hey, it's me. He just told his second lie. One more and we want the whole thing – lights, siren, photos. Make sure you park at the bottom of the driveway and approach slowly. We want to give the neighbors plenty of time to see the parade." Hanging up, she keeps the phone in her hand while looking at Smith.

"As you might imagine," Castle offers conversationally, "my partner's not terribly happy with your decision to shelter her mother's killer. Adding lies to the mix is just asking for trouble." While Smith looks on in disbelief, Castle unslings his bag from his shoulder before reaching in and withdrawing the file. "How…?"

"My partner is pretty resourceful, especially for a 'pawn,'" Beckett says with a smirk of her own. "He's adept at seeing things other people can't see," she says while Castle thinks _front clasp!_ "and anticipating traps."

"Yeah," Castle asks, "the bomb under the file in the office safe wasn't very nice. That actually slowed us down a bit," he says with a chuckle.

"So," Beckett says briskly, recapturing attention. "Let's try this again: what do you have to offer that might convince me to leave here without arresting you?"

"What do you want to know?" Smith asks in defeat.

 _Bad move, buddy. This isn't about us asking anymore. This is about you volunteering as much as you can to convince us to let you go._

Beckett's only answer is to flip open the burner phone and start dialing.

"Wait!" Smith cries, finally figuring out that he's riding the edge of a trip to the precinct that will almost certainly end in his death. "There's a tape. A second tape."

"A tape of what?" Beckett demands, leaving the phone open in her palm.

"A tape of Bracken, confessing," Smith says. "It's the keystone, the grail. It explains why Roy and your mother are dead."

"Let me make a suggestion," Castle says in a tone that makes it clear that this is an absolute directive, even if he called it a suggestion. "Explain, from the start, the full story. No more half-answers or stalling. _Now_." Castle's so focused on Smith, so intensely invested in getting answers for Beckett, that he doesn't notice that he's slipped and allowed some of his Gamma training to slip out. His voice seems to vibrate with menace as he speaks, and dark energy seems to whisper and curl around him. Smith looks scared. And broken.

"Raglan and McCallister compromised Roy right from the start," Smith says as he starts his explanation. "The partners were afraid that the new guy would tumble onto the scheme and turn them in, so they blackmailed him – they could make it look like he was a participant even if he wasn't. They threatened to pin the whole thing on him, telling him that they'd cut sweetheart deals with the DA to lay it all at Roy's feet. It was probably crap, but Roy couldn't risk it. To protect himself, and his family, he went along."

Engrossed in the story, Castle still pulls himself back far enough to gauge Beckett's reaction. Just to remind her that she's not alone, he sends her a phantom rub of the back to show his support. She gives him a quick look in response, followed by a small nod. Turning to Smith, Castle restarts the narrative with the nod of his head.

"Roy was looking for a way out right from the start," Smith says, casting an imploring look at Beckett. Her response is stony impassivity. "It took months before they trusted that he was invested in the scheme, but he waited patiently. When they stopped searching him and invited him to the planning meetings, he wore a wire."

Watching the surprised looks that pass between Castle and Beckett, Smith pauses. When their attention returns to him, Smith makes an appeal to Beckett. "Detective, I know you're upset with Roy. But just listen and I think you'll revise your opinion. Roy did do one cowardly thing, and there's no disputing that it was a disastrous decision in retrospect. But give him a chance."

"Talk," Beckett commands, unwilling to engage in any bartering or discussion until she hears the whole story.

"As you know if you've seen the file, Roy killed an undercover FBI agent when one of their grabs went bad," Smith continues. "They framed Pulgatti. But despite the cloud he was under for the murder, Roy was saved – the debacle ended the kidnapping scheme. In his mind, coming forward with his tape and the evidence he'd squirreled away would do nothing but exonerate a murderous crook, at the cost of his career and the potential safety of his family. So," Smith says sadly, "Roy stayed quiet. Bracken ran for office, Raglan and McCallister prepared for retirement, and it looked like it would all sink into the murk of the past."

"Until my mother arrived," Beckett prompts, unwilling to allow sorrow for the perpetrators of this disaster.

"Yes. Seven years later, Johanna Beckett started representing Pulgatti," Smith agrees. "Suddenly, everything was at risk again. He probably would've stayed quiet, but Roy heard the whispers about silencing your mother. It became a race – could your mother crack the case before they silenced her? He had to choose a side," Smith says before coming to a complete halt.

 _Well, Roy, I can't blame you. If Johanna was anything like her daughter, I know where I would've placed my bet._

Waiting until he has their full attention, Smith looks directly into Beckett's eyes. "He chose your mother. He made contact with her. He warned her what was coming, begged her to let the case go or to pursue it in a way that would protect her family."

"So where's the tape?" Castle asks. "It's not in the file."

"The first tape is gone," Smith answers. "Bracken suspected someone was talking to Beckett. He arranged a meeting with the other three principals to discuss the threat and to find the leak. Roy knew he was at risk of being outed. So," he says while looking at Beckett, "he used the Coscelli maneuver."

 _Is that like the Kobayashi Maru?_

As Castle's confused look, Beckett explains. "Coscelli is a case we study at the academy," she explains, casting her mind back. "He was a low-level mob enforcer who got greedy, started skimming profits from his boss' drug sales. He got pinched by the feds and turned CI. When his boss noticed that he was acting strangely, he confessed to the embezzlement scheme and gave back the money. He took a fearsome beating, but he remained with the organization and was never suspected as an informant."

"So, what, Roy turned over his copy of the tape?" Castle asks incredulously. "Without making another copy?"

"He was planning to meet with your mother, so he had the tape on him. He saw his chance and took it," Smith answers with a sad nod. "He played enough for them to know what it was, then burned it in front of them."

"What was he really doing?" Beckett asks.

Unexpectedly, Smith smiles. "That, detective, is exactly the right question to ask. He destroyed the tape that he'd already made," Smith says with a smile. "While he was still wearing his wire."

"So, he traded one tape for another?" Castle asks. "If Bracken thought it was destroyed, why the attention now?"

"Two reasons," Smith answers with a nod. "The first was obvious to the detective as soon as she saw that file," he says while focusing on Beckett. "What's the evidentiary value of the file, detective, even assuming it's admissible?"

"Limited," Beckett concedes. "It's mostly circumstantial. A clever attorney could weave his way through this information, and, as you say, it's likely that at least a fair portion of it would be excluded from the record."

"Exactly," Smith replies. "That's why I called the tape the keystone. It's rock solid – Bracken, on tape in a meeting where he's referred to by name and title, threatening Beckett's life. And, from what Roy said, it might be that part of the tape corroborates information in the file."

 _Good Lord, that_ is _the Holy Grail. With that tape in hand, this whole conspiracy would come crashing down. As Bracken must realize._

"So, the second reason must explain why Bracken's looking for the tape again," Castle surmises, again prompting a nod from Smith.

"When Roy was killed in the hangar," Smith says with a sorrowful tone, "Bracken realized that he'd given Roy a pass after he burned the first tape. He must've been furious," Smith says with a grim smile, "with the thought that Roy pulled one over on him – DAs use the Coscelli case for training, too. He started thinking about what Roy held back, what Roy could've hidden or passed along."

"So, he's worried about another tape out there somewhere," Beckett summarizes.

"Not worried," Smith corrects, "absolutely terrified. That information," he says while pointing to the file in Castle's hand, "he's worried about. It might not send him to prison, but it's enough to raise a cloud of suspicion, to hang him in the court of public opinion. That's why he held off in pursuing you, detective."

"'Held off,'" Beckett quotes back to him angrily, "not 'stopped.' You've known all along that this is a stalling effort at best. In fact," Beckett grows louder as she gets more irate, "he's not even adhering to the deal, is he? You just gave Bracken an excuse to find the tape first, before he comes back for me."

"And you don't appreciate the extra days of life that you've enjoyed as a result?" Smith challenges in response. "They look like they've been profitable," he says while cutting a look at Castle.

 _But we didn't have to choose – we could've been pursuing the tape together._

"This," Beckett says fiercely while looking at Castle, "would've happened regardless, would've happened sooner without my shooting. What your _deal_ has done is stolen time from us. Why didn't you tell Castle there was a tape? We could've been looking for it for months!"

"It's been missing for years!" Smith replies, annoyed that Beckett isn't grateful. "Since before you joined the force. Do you really think a few weeks make any difference?"

"You'd better hope it does," Beckett promises in a low growl. "Because if we don't find that tape in the next month, I'm coming for you. Not as a detective, but as a vengeful daughter."

"You're not some vigilante superhero," Smith fires back, though he looks disconcerted.

"Actually," Castle disagrees with a feral smile, "that's a pretty good description of her. Even down to the plucky sidekick."

"Partner, Castle, not sidekick," Beckett corrects while staring fiercely at Smith. "Partner in justice," she says while flashing him a grim smile. "Partner in crime," she says while glowering at Smith. "Partner in life."

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

"Good morning, Rick," Jim says as he opens the door to his daughter's partner. After a quick, careful hug that doesn't interfere with the coffee tray or brown paper bag Castle's holding, Jim stands aside and ushers Castle inside. "Katie said you'd be coming by this morning, but she was unusually vague about the reason. What can I do for you?"

 _I'd suspect you're here to ask for my permission to propose to Katie, except that she set up this visit and would probably maim both of us for such an antiquated idea._

"It's not the conversation I'd prefer to have," Castle says with a wink, "but there's something else I'd like to ask of you. Do you have ten minutes before you need to head to work?"

"Certainly," Jim answers, suggesting the kitchen with a wave of his arm, "I have as much time as you need." As they settle in, Castle slides a coffee over to Jim. "My day's not right if it doesn't start with giving coffee to a Beckett," he says with a sly smile. "Your daughter's partial to bear claws, but she suggested that you're more of a scone man."

"Thanks, Rick," Jim says with a chuckle. "Plying me with caffeine and sugar – sure you're not here to ask me about Katie?"

"She'd kill us both if I were," Castle says with a laugh. "And she's got some unusual means at her disposal now."

"That she does," Jim agrees with a nod and a sip of his coffee. "though she's plenty fierce without them. So, what can I do for you?"

"I'm afraid I need to get a bit serious on you, Jim," Castle says with a sigh. "I know you've worried about Kate's focus on her mother's case…," Castle starts gently before Jim releases a long sigh.

 _Oh, Katie. Don't look for trouble, not when your future is looking so bright._

"I know this is unfair, Rick, but I really wish you could rein her in," Jim laments.

"We're moving forward," Castle answers instead, "and we're doing it right – slowly, carefully, and with help. We've actually made some significant inroads."

Hating himself for getting so interested, Jim can't stop his face from reflecting a burning curiosity. Recognizing his struggle, Castle hurries to provide an explanation.

"We know that Johanna had something in her possession that would make all the difference in prosecuting her killer. I'd like your permission to look around. The same skills that we used on our boat trip," Castle offers obliquely, "make it easy for me to find things that are hidden."

 _Could there really be something here that would help Johanna now, after all these years? I'd laugh at the possibility, but I also would've laughed – did laugh – at the notion that a boat trip could accomplish what the doctors said was impossible._

"I'm not going to read anything or go through your drawers or anything like that – I know the dimensions of what I'm looking for," Castle offers. "Kate would be here, but we thought it might be easier for me to do the search. As much as I regret it, I never had the pleasure of meeting your wife. Kate thought I might be able to look a little more dispassionately than either of you…"

 _After all these years I'm still not up to wading through the pieces of our past._

"You don't need to explain, son," Jim says quietly. "And I'm certainly not going to challenge your… methods of looking for this object, not after our 'therapeutic journey at sea.' But, tell me this," he requests, pausing to collect his thoughts. "If you're worried about prosecution, that means you have a name, don't you? You think you know who killed Jo."

 _Katie's not the only one who can read you, son._

"Jim…," Castle trails off, running a hand through his hair. "Not to sound like your daughter, but the investigation is ongoing. I'm… optimistic that we're close. But saying anything more might be raising your hopes too high, and it isn't my news to tell, anyway."

Castle pauses to look at Jim and gauge his reaction. Given the lingering curiosity, Castle tries one more time. "Look, Jim, I know we don't know each other very well yet, but just trust me, at least for a week or two. We'll get there," he promises. "I know we will."

"Rick," Jim disagrees, "I think I know you pretty well. I trusted you with my life, and I trust you with my daughter. Just try to keep her safe, please, and tell me when you can."

"Of course," Castle answers. Looking a little choked up, Castle mumbles a quiet "Thank you," while trying to get himself under control.

 _It's easy to forget that while Katie hasn't had a mother for more than a decade, you've never had a father. You're a good man, Rick, and I hope Katie and I can help you see that._

"So," Jim says abruptly while standing up. "Let me give you a quick tour of the place, then I'll leave you to it. Feel free to search everywhere. Do you need to move things around?"

"I don't think so," Castle answers.

"Are you sure? I've heard you like to touch things," he comments with a raised brow, prompting another blush from Castle. "Just put things back in their place and try not to break anything."

Castle huffs a laugh as he follows Jim into the next room.

"Should I also be showing you where the rest of her yearbooks are?" Jim asks, further torturing Castle just a bit.

"No need," Castle answers, looking even more uncomfortable. "I had to make certain promises to Kate when we set this up. I won't search anything of hers unless she's present," he explains, sounding like he's quoting verbatim a condition that Beckett herself created. "Not even during a break," he grumbles petulantly.

 _This sounds very familiar…_

"You didn't know Jo," Jim agrees with Castle's earlier point, "but Katie's very much like her mother in some ways. My advice? _Don't_ push your luck on that front. Besides," he says with a laugh, "if you need anything like that, let me know and maybe I can help you out again."

In good humor, Jim takes Castle on a quick tour, reiterating again that nothing it out-of-bounds, which makes Castle realize that he wouldn't be so ready to let someone have such unfettered access to his browser cache, much less the whole loft. Appreciating the trust that Jim's putting in him, Castle feels a little daunted, and a little proud.

"Jim," Castle says as Beckett's father prepares to leave for work. "I really appreciate the faith you're showing in me, both for this search and for my relationship with your daughter. It… means a lot to me," Castle struggles with words, a clear sign of his discomposure.

"My pleasure, Rick," Jim answers. "I've waited a long time for someone to really love my daughter," he says simply. "I'm glad it's you."

After a quick hug, Jim begins to depart before Castle raises one last topic. "Jim, will you do me a favor when you get back? I'd like you to pack a bag," he explains after Jim's questioning look. "Things might get a little hectic if we start making inroads. We worry about you being alone, being a target. My building is secure and I've got a guest room – the same room Kate used when she lost her apartment. We'd like you to be ready to come to the loft."

"Rick, I've been on my own for years," Jim demurs. "And I wouldn't want to impose."

"It's no imposition," Castle assures him. "And never mind your daughter, _my_ daughter will make sure we keep you safe. Please?"

 _No wonder Katie loves this family. They are very good at taking care of us._

"Okay, Rick," Jim agrees, finding himself a little choked up. "I'll pack a bag and be ready to go if I hear from you or Katie."

The look of gratitude on Castle's face nearly undoes him, so Jim reaches for a little levity to ease the mood. "I'll be happy to put Alexis' mind at ease. I've got to say, though," he says as he pins Castle with a look, "I'm surprised I'm the first Beckett that you've asked to move in."

Rather than blush, though, Castle looks like the teasing invigorates him and Jim recognizes the return of his playful side. "I haven't asked you to move in yet," he says with a twinkle in his eye. "And you certainly won't be the first one I ask."

With laughs and a pat on the back, Castle sends Jim to the office and sets about his task. It's slow, methodical work, not his usual forte but the seriousness of the task keeps him focused. He's surprised to see that more than two hours have passed before his ringing cellphone pulls his attention away from his search.

"Hey, Beckett," Castle answers warmly. "I totally promise that I haven't perused yearbooks, searched for diaries or old letters, or cuddled with any of your old stuffed animals. Even the adorable pink elephant."

"Castle," Beckett replies seriously, completely ignoring his greeting, "I need you to come in."

"We have a case?" Castle asks, worried by her tone.

"I need your help with something," Beckett answers quickly. "Something I found while thinking about old maps."

* * *

A/N2: For those of you who were hoping to see it, there you go: a Jonas-Gates meeting. Merry Christmas!

More seriously, best holiday wishes to everyone, especially the friends that I've made after deciding to start writing this year. It's been great fun and I've enjoyed it quite a bit. And, as much as I'd love to post another chapter before Christmas, it's not going to happen. We don't quite go as far as Castle on the Christmas celebration, but we're not far off. The trees are decorated inside and out (and none are held in place with blue buckets), the lights are strung, and we've got cookies and reindeer chow ready and waiting. After Christmas, though, I'll be writing again (and reading, finally!).


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: In addition to the characters I don't own, you'll recognize a few snippets of dialog from the show - those aren't mine, either. More comments down below.

.

* * *

 **Castle**

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Castle speaks clearly from the podium, "friends and donors." Castle waits while the low hum of activity at each table ebbs to silence and attention shifts his way. He looks like a consummate master of ceremonies: well-fitted suit, shoes that sparkle almost as much as his eyes, hair coiffed, and demeanor joyous.

 _Looks like Paula's efforts didn't bear much fruit – only a few media outlets sent representatives. Our little party didn't seem newsworthy, eh? Well, the few who attended will soon find themselves very popular._

"When we started the Johanna Beckett Scholarship Fund, I promised each of you that we'd be making progress towards investing in our city, towards providing a more stable future for all of our brothers and sisters, especially those most at risk of suffering injustice without redress." Castle pauses to survey the room. The eyes of today's luncheon attendees are on him, but it's Gates he seeks out. Finding her at the back of the room, her small head shake tells him to keep talking.

 _Who would've thought there'd ever be a day when Captain Gates_ encouraged _me to keep talking?_

"Ours is an aspirational goal, no easier to attain even though Johanna led the way," Castle emotes to his rapt, captive audience. "Progress is difficult to measure, so we consider our steps on the path to a better city. Today, I've asked you here to celebrate two major successes of Johanna's Fund, and to thank you for your efforts to get us here."

Castle steps around the podium and down the two stairs to speak to the crowd without a barrier. Strolling among the tables, he deftly makes his way while avoiding the members of serving staff, who are delivering the salad plates. Heading to the bar at the back of the room, he makes eye contact with Gates on the way. _No change._

Taking a flute of champagne from the bar, he turns and lifts it high. "Our first success," he speaks loudly and clearly, without the aid of a microphone, "is that the Fund is now fully endowed for two annual, full-ride scholarships. Our balance is protected, allowing us to provide top-flight legal education using only the accumulated interest from your generous contributions. _Don't worry_ ," Castle soothes as he surveys the room, "we'll still be hounding you for donations to build the endowment," he says with a smile, winning a handful of generous laughs, "but we've got traction now."

 _Good turnout for the lunch. I owe Bob for helping out, and for distracting everyone from the Judge's absence._

"But, Rick," he says as if someone else was talking, "what good are two undoubtedly brilliant students in a city of eight million?" Castle makes eye contact with those around the room as he lets the question sink in.

 _There are only four on our homicide team,_ _and I know we matter._

"Two students a year!" he says suddenly, excitedly, startling two of the nearby guests who'd been staring adoringly at him. "Two students with the energy, intelligence, and education to bolster the ranks. Two students of the _hundreds_ of applicants. We're creating demand," he says as he looks around, eyes shimmering. "We're creating leaders," he says proudly. "We're creating _hope_."

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gates subtly move her hand, extending her fingers. _Five minutes._

"Two might not seem like many, but I'm _thrilled_ with two. Why?" he asks as he roams among the tables, this time looking up at the table of dignitaries next to the podium. Jim looks slightly uncomfortable, but proud. Bob looks engaged. _Though with his training, he might be taking a nap_. And the keynote speaker looks anxious to step into the spotlight.

"I'll give you two reasons. Two reasons I'm happy about two students. First," he says easily, "you can't get to _more_ without going through _two_. Don't think we're going to stop. Our city deserves more." Castle's happy to see Bob nod at this point, proving that he's awake. "But the second reason, the real reason? Two is fantastic because we only had one Johanna Beckett. If _one_ vibrant, compassionate attorney could provide such hope, how can we not be exhilarated by the prospect of _two_?"

 _Time to move the pieces into place._

"So – _thank you_ ," Castle says sincerely as he starts his walks back to the podium. "We know we wouldn't be here without you, wouldn't have this good news to share."

Stepping up to the elevated platform, Castle walks behind those at the head table to resume his starting position, giving Jim a comforting pat on the shoulder as he walks by. Standing at the podium again, Castle adjusts the microphone, using Beckett's interrogation tactic of silence to ensure that his audience is focusing on him.

"Our second success," he says while raising his flute again, "is that _we're, like,_ _popular!_ " he says in his best imitation of the intonation from Alexis' high school friends, again winning an indulgent chuckle from the crowd. "Applications are skyrocketing. Other law schools know us – they are reaching out to us about expanding our idea. The top national law firms know us and have so far done us the favor of helping. That'll change," Castle says conspiratorially, "when they realize we're stealing away the best legal talent. Shhhh!" he says with a finger to his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

Waiting for the chuckles to subside, he rounds into home stretch. "Alas, every silver lining has a cloud," Castle facetiously laments. "Due to our newfound prominence, we've come to the attention of _politicians_ ," he says with a dramatic roll of his eyes. Bob, as discussed before the event, raises his arms in victory and pumps his fists a few times to emphasize the joke.

"Clearly," Castle says as he switches to an earnest tone of voice, "we're making inroads, making people excited. We are _elated_ ," he says with emphasis, "that our elected leaders are recognizing our promise and are willing to let us stand on their shoulders to elevate Johanna's Fund. Mayor Weldon, a good man and a good friend, was our very first donor and has been a stalwart supporter. And today's keynote speaker will certainly provide attention for our Fund." _More than he knows._

Standing aside with an arm motion, Castle cedes the podium to the keynote speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's a good thing our next speaker needs little introduction, because I promised you a delicious but quick lunch that would allow you to return to your offices, chambers, or classrooms for the afternoon. Instead of listening to his biography, I ask you to think about what he's going to talk about," Castle says as he sees Beckett step from a back room, flanked by LT in street clothes and followed by Judge Mathis. Gates is about twenty yards to their right, standing vigil.

"Think about Johanna. Think about her hope and faith in our city. Think about how one person – just one person – can make a difference, can alter history." Despite the subject of his talk, Castle can't help looking at the speaker and thinking that his words apply to him, too, in a much different way. "Think about her life, her sacrifice," Castle finishes, looking directly into Beckett's eyes from across the room. He almost cracks a smile when he feels her rub his cheek. It takes all his reserve to keep a straight face and to not pretend that he's been slapped again.

"Friends and donors, I promised you an eventful lunch, and for that I now turn things over to Senator Bracken, today's keynote speaker. Fortune smiled upon us when he decided to help lend attention to our cause. So, please, get ready for what I'm sure will be an event to remember. Because I can assure you," Castle pauses to survey the room one last time before looking at Beckett again, "we wouldn't be here without people like him."

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

 _Rick's such a natural at this. He worked the crowd like a magician, all while I sat here and tried to keep myself under control, sitting next to the monster that tore our lives apart. I hope Katie's ready to make her move – I don't think I can bear the thought of listening to him talking about Jo._

"Thank you, Mr. Castle," Bracken says from his newly-claimed spot behind the podium, using his dazzling smile and open expression divert attention from the note cards he pulls from his pocket and props on the podium. "Or can I call you 'Rick'?" he asks good naturedly as he smiles while surveying the audience, missing Castle's brief grimace in response.

 _No, you can't. That's my daughter's partner up there. He's ours._

"I've been aware of the Johanna Beckett Scholarship Fund since it was created and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, I am _delighted_ to be a part of today's celebration. It's all too rare these days to find an event that's just a thank-you, just a celebration. And while it's no surprise that Rick likes a good party," he mugs it up for the audience, which delights in seeing Castle's slight blush, "it's to his credit, and to those others who oversee the Fund," Bracken says as he extends an open arm to Jim, "that they thought to take the time to show their appreciation. It's fitting that even the celebrations are a pleasant reminder of the woman who inspired us all."

 _Don't pretend that you know her. To you she wasn't an inspiration, she was a threat, a loose end. Well, guess what, Mr. Senator? My Katie's on the move._

"Ah, Detective Beckett," Bracken announces from the podium as he notices Beckett moving toward him, "I feared that you'd miss this event. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Katherine Beckett, Johanna's daughter and the youngest woman to make detective at the NYPD."

 _All because of you, bastard. She should be sitting at one of the donor's tables, a happy and successful attorney. Instead, she's here as the instrument of your downfall._

While the audience breaks out into isolated spots of polite clapping, anyone who can see Beckett as she walks a path through the tables and towards the podium is dissuaded from clapping by her deliberate stride and serious countenance. The intensity around Beckett builds, creating a sense of suspense.

"I found the tape," Beckett says clearly from about ten yards away from the podium. Bracken attempts to look calm, casually glancing to his right, where Castle stands in place with a grim smile on his face. Swiveling his head to the left, he sees LT standing with legs apart, arms crossed, and an easy smile.

"I found it," Beckett repeats, "it's over," she says as she vaults onto the raised platform, walking behind the head table and letting her hand drift across her father's back as she approaches the podium.

 _At last. At last we'll see some justice for Jo! Thank you, Katie._

"Senator Bracken," Beckett says while utterly ignoring the audience from whom Bracken is trying to hide, particularly the flanking tables of media representatives who can't believe their good fortune at being here, "you are under arrest for conspiracy, fraud, and the murder of my mother, Johanna Beckett. Turn around, please."

The murmurs turn into a near roar at the ratcheting sound of the cuffs securing Bracken's wrists. Someone from his entourage steps forward to intercede, only to be cut off by Captain Gates, brandishing the freshly-signed arrest warrant.

* * *

 **Castle**

Castle waits until Beckett finishes the Miranda warning, certain that the vast number of attorneys and judges in the room would notice any irregularities, before stepping quietly to Beckett's side. "Don't leave without me," he reminds her.

 _I'm with you to the end of the road, partner._

"Of course not," Beckett says simply, the look in her eyes speaking volumes. "I need you with me. Go charm them," she says with a nod to the audience, "then come back to me."

"I'll meet you in back," Castle replies. Then, with one quick, phantom kiss to the cheek, he turns to return to the podium. Meeting Gates' eyes, he gives her a nod of respect and nearly falls over when she returns the gesture.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated and allow law enforcement to clear the room," Castle requests politely once back behind the podium. Surprisingly, most people listen, though the gossip is flying and almost everyone has pulled out cellphones, either to document the event or to break the news. Unsurprisingly, the media members ignore Castle and chase after the procession like abandoned terriers. All except the lone photographer who remains in place long enough to record Jim Beckett, sitting quietly in his chair at the head table, silent tears coursing down his cheeks.

 _Hold on, Jim. We're almost there._

" _Well_ ," Castle says exuberantly into the microphone, commanding attention by both volume and tone, "I promised you excitement, didn't I? Unfortunately, it's caused a bit of a wrinkle in our lunch plans. Captain Victoria Gates of the NYPD's 12th precinct asked me to request that you remain on the premises until the NYPD has departed," Castle says with a nod to the main exit doors, which are flanked by two uniformed officers. "As you might imagine," Castle says conspiratorially, "transferring a detainee of such prominence requires a little more than a squad-car."

 _Though I wouldn't've minded a hearse._

"Luckily," Castle continues, "I had the foresight to have a backup plan ready to go. Just don't tell the media, we don't want to tarnish my terrible reputation," he says with a laugh, which the audience joins. _I could tell them that I had porridge for breakfast and they'd laugh, just to release some of the lingering tension from this event._

"I've already introduced you to my friend, the mayor," Castle says with a smile and an arm extended to Weldon. "Bob's going to tag-in for me on the hosting duties. But, I've got another friend here tonight who will pinch hit for us on the keynote speech."

 _Jim, I'd introduce you as my friend, too, but you look like you've got more than enough attention right now. So, maybe this next surprise will be a welcome lark, if you can manage to hear or think about anything but Bracken right now._

"Our new-and-improved speaker also requires little introduction," Castle says grandly as the doors at the back of the room open and Castle's "pinch-hitter" makes his way toward the podium. "And," he continues to speak with his usual spark of mischief clearly on display, "I'm pretty sure the only things he's been accused of killing are the playoff aspirations of the other teams unfortunate enough to reside in the AL-East."

 _Thank goodness for Rocco. Joe probably would've agreed to do this just for me, but having a brother who was in the NYPD certainly sealed the deal._

"Ladies and gentlemen, I turn you over to the capable hands of Mr. Joe Torre. For those of you who aren't big baseball fans, just hold on. Joe's an excellent speaker and if for no other reason, give it a shot for Johanna. She managed to put up with being subjected to full Mets games," Castle says with a wink to Jim, "so a twenty-minute chat from one of the greatest managers in history should be a dream in comparison."

After exchanging pleasantries, Castle turns the podium over to Joe, who's good enough to launch right into a story to provide some cover for Castle's departure. Nodding to Burton and Erickson, the uniforms at the door, Castle makes his way to the group of officers assembled around Bracken. As he approaches, Gates intercepts him while holding a flak jacket.

"Nicely handled, Mr. Castle," Gates says, shocking Castle again. The only response he can manage is "This doesn't say 'Writer,'" in reference to his vest.

"Don't worry," Gates replies directly, "the rest of the plan is proceeding as discussed. We'll move as soon as you're suited up."

"Then I guess we're ready to make the call?" Castle asks as he takes off his suitcoat and dons the police vest, looking past Gates to make eye contact with his partner. She's standing behind Bracken, a hand on his forearm, both of them wearing vests. _Even cuffed, she won't let him go. Can't say that I blame her._

Castle makes his way to Beckett as he hears Gates say "We're moving" into a radio. Whether due to the Gamma connection or just their natural attentiveness to each other, Beckett's head turns away from the discussion she was watching to see her partner approach. She looks resolute. _Not willing to call this a victory yet. Good – now comes the hardest part_.

"Hey partner," Castle greets Beckett, earning only a sneer from Bracken. "What's with him? I figured he'd be spouting threats or spewing curses."

"His chief of staff," Beckett answers with a nod of her head toward the man who'd tried to interrupt the arrest, "passed along recommendations from his attorney to say nothing. Makes this much more pleasant."

"A silent politician," Castle muses. "Sounds like an oxymoron, or a Jimmy Stewart movie," he smirks, pulling a snarl from Bracken. Then, turning serious, he gives his partner a searching look. "Are you ready for this?"

Beckett pauses for a moment, staring into Castle's eyes. Then, hesitantly, she nods.

"Don't worry," Castle assures her with a whisper as he leans close, unwilling to let Bracken overhear this exchange. "I've practiced with Espo. If anything happens, we'll be fine." Pulling back from her, Castle gives her a look of confidence, loading his expression with as much support as he can muster.

"I know," Beckett answers in a low voice. "I trust you, partner."

They're staring at each other again when Bracken finally speaks. "Oh, for the love of God, get me out of here before I throw up. Though it's nice," he can't manage to help himself from saying, "to see how important the writer is to you."

 _Trying to goad Beckett into a brutality charge? That won't work. Probably._

"Please," Beckett replies flatly. "As if that's anything new." Then, with a relatively gentle shove, she starts Bracken heading toward the door. As they move, a procession materializes around them. Gates is the point, flanked by LT. Several uniforms fan out on either side of them, creating a wedge. Beckett and Bracken follow, with Castle bringing up the rear.

 _Showtime._

As they emerge from the restaurant that Castle booked for the event, the shouted questions from reporters and pops and whirs of the media equipment assault them from multiple angles. As they'd planned, taking time to put on protective clothing and manage the audience provided the chance for the media members who attended the luncheon to array themselves on the stairs outside of the restaurant, held off at a safe distance by more uniforms. Bracken's chief of staff is off to the side, trying to get ahead of any public reaction to the Senator's arrest, but it's an obvious lost cause. This story is just too hot to pass up, and the chief seems to realize it when the junior entertainment reporter can't help but pay more attention to the procession than to him.

Gates looks back to cast Beckett and then Castle a wary glance. _This was the part of the plan that nearly blew the whole thing up. She already suspects something's up with me. If this happens as I expect, she'd be a fool to not realize something deeper is going on._ Without breaking stride, Gates turns and leads the group down the stairs toward the waiting vehicles.

Castle's just taken his fourth step down when the shot rings out. It's a loud bark conjured from the depths of his nightmares and Castle probably only imagines the concussive force that rattles his chest, thinking of the booming fireworks he's loved to watch since a child. The bullet hits just to the left of his foot, kicking up marble shrapnel and irreparably pocking the stair.

Chaos ensues and reality fractures, at least for Castle. It's almost like one of his storyboards, where the layers of the plot that will eventually be woven together are all laid out individually. Layer one: Gates asserts her command, directing her troops with ruthless efficiency. LT spins and grabs Bracken, hauling him into the waiting NYPD van. Layer two: another shot fires, this one sounding shorter and sharper. It's followed by a squawking bark over the radio reporting "Suspect down." Layer three: Castle landing on top of Beckett, unaware that he'd moved even though he and Beckett anticipated the shot.

 _Oh, shit. Something's seriously wrong._

Sprawled next to her on the stairs, Castle realizes that they're in trouble. The replay of Montgomery's funeral has hit her hard, left her shaking and unresponsive. He can see it as easily as he can feel it through their connection. The longer they stay here, the faster the media will turn the cameras on them. But he can't scoop her up the way he'd like, can't lift her up into a warm embrace that promises to protect her from the world, if only so long as she'd accept it. Failing to come up with a better option, Castle makes his pick and sends up a quick prayer of hope that Beckett won't assault him when she comes back to herself.

 _Well, if she does, it'll be a clear sign that things are back to normal._

With only a momentary sigh, Castle reaches out to lift Beckett, but not with his arms. Beckett's walk down the stairs isn't as ungainly as the way she rose on the steps, but Castle's still hoping that any camera footage of their flight is too harried to notice, or that Beckett's movements can be explained by a reaction to a sniper attack.

 _A human marionette isn't the easiest thing to maneuver._

Thankfully, the process of moving seems to trigger some autonomic responses from Beckett, who starts walking under her own power, though she still looks vacant. With Gates's vehicle screaming away from the curb with Bracken inside, Castle guides Beckett to Esposito's cruiser, where they both pile into the back seat.

"Kate," Castle whispers urgently, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. It's awkward, crammed into the back seat of the car, but Castle's desperate to reach out to his partner. When nothing seems to break through her fog, Castle makes another executive decision – five minutes. He'll give her five minutes to come around before he'll jump in front and haul them to the nearest hospital. Esposito will kill him for taking the car, but he'll work that out later.

After a brief pause to set his phone out where he can reach it to check the time, Castle resumes rubbing Beckett's arms.

 _But our physical connection is new. Maybe she needs words. And maybe we should start with where we left off last time._

"I love you, Kate," Castle says thickly, what was meant to be a lighthearted déjà vu reference instead emerging as even more emotionally raw the second time around. "Kate, I love you. I'm here and we're safe. Please come back to me." After mentally kicking himself to stop sounding so worried, Castle starts a constant stream of words, hoping the rumble of his voice will serve as a beacon to lead Beckett back home.

Castle's just considering giving himself an extension on his self-imposed deadline when Beckett shows signs of coming back to herself. There's no grand reaction, no sudden clutching at Castle. Instead, it's as if Beckett's swimming slowly to the surface. Her trembles slowly recede, her breathing slowly evens out, and her eyes slowly come back into focus. After a short eternity, Beckett's back. She's still withdrawn, perhaps embarrassed or exhausted, but she's back.

 _Come on, partner, talk to me. Otherwise I'm not going to stop talking and that'll drive us both crazy._

Movement outside the window draws his attention to where Ryan's stopped on his approach to the car. There's no sign of Esposito, so he's probably still dealing with the formalities resulting from his shot at the sniper. Shaking his head to warn Ryan off, he's warmed to see Ryan spin in place and take up a defensive posture as he guards them.

"I remember," Beckett says, calling his attention back to her. Staring at her beautiful face and clear gaze, he forgets her comment momentarily. "I remember, Rick. You said you loved me."

 _Of course I do._

"I did," Castle huffs emotionally, "and I do. Welcome back, partner. I'm so, so sorry about that."

"Did we get him?" Beckett asks, probably wondering if the trauma was productive.

"I think so," Castle answers with an embarrassed shrug. "I heard 'suspect down,' but to be honest, I was mostly concerned about you."

"Thank you, partner," Beckett says, finally wrapping Castle into a hug. "You were right about the sniper and you were right that you could protect me. But, Castle?" she asks and waits for him to pull back and look her in the face. "Let's never do that again."

 _I don't know, Kate. I'd do that and more to keep you safe._

"Agreed," Castle huffs, giving her a warm squeeze. "Definitely agreed. But, there's one thing about this debacle that you'll find interesting."

"Oh?" Beckett asks, surprising Castle by not pulling out of their embrace. "What's that?"

"I had the shield in place before we left the restaurant," Castle confides as Beckett nods, since this was part of the plan. "I know exactly where the bullet hit the shield before it was diverted. You weren't the target," Castle says slowly. "The sniper was gunning for Bracken."

* * *

A/N2: Happy Boxing Day! I managed to get a little writing time in when the kids went off to play with their new toys and before the relatives arrived for Christmas dinner. I'd hoped to get farther – this is only about half of what I wanted to accomplish in this chapter – but it felt like it was getting a little long. Plus, we're leaving town for a few days. So, I thought I'd post what I've got so far. Apologies for the short chapter, but updates are on the way (especially if my wife handles the driving duties again). Gates will have to explain the reason for their set-up when the next chapter begins. Of course, writing is a little less likely with the bounty of new stories to read (thanks for the Christmas present, Aalon!), but I can't seem to put this story down for long, even when I should.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

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* * *

 **Victoria Gates**

"What the _hell_ was that about?" Deputy Chief Perkins yells as Gates enters the police chief's office at One Police Plaza. Ignoring the question entirely, she thanks the Chief's secretary for showing her in, then walks calmly to the empty chair in front of the police chief. Both the Chief and the DC are in dress uniforms, clearly anticipating a press conference later this afternoon. That she was not informed to do the same clearly indicates the intention to exclude her from the camera time.

 _Good try, but we'll see who attends._

The Chief, an older, balding man better known for his political acumen than his management skills, remains quiet. Clearly, he and the DC spoke before her arrival and worked out their roles for this encounter. That, or the DC is trying to score points by going after Gates. Either way, it's DC Perkins, the unctuous, oily sycophant, who leads the assault.

 _I can't wait to replace these idiots. You've had a good run, boys, but extinction is going to come for you soon._

Lowering herself into the chair, Gates smirks internally, thinking that she's approaching this meeting with her bosses the same way Castle usually approaches his meetings with her. "What would you like to know?" she asks innocently.

"What would we…," Perkins trails off incredulously. "We want to know what in the hell you were thinking. You arrested a Senator! At a completely contrived farce of an event!"

"I was _thinking_ ," Gates says calmly in the face of Perkins' bluster, "that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do. Exactly what the Chief wanted me to do."

 _I can see why Mr. Castle enjoys our meetings so much. I think I can actually hear Perkins' molars cracking._

Glancing at the Chief before he yells again, Perkins is surprised to see his appraising look at Gates. Worried that he's going to misstep, Perkins remains quiet and Gates steps into the breach.

"I shouldn't have gone to the 12th," Gates says, watching the Chief carefully for any tells. "I was slated for the 8th, and the needs of the 26th were more pressing, along with a better fit for my demographic profile." This statement causes some pursed lips as all three attendees think about the racial strife and protests that have their epicenter in the 26th's catchment area. "But instead I drew the 12th. Not because of my profile and not because of the PR considerations."

Gates trails off, still watching the Chief. He's staring back, not giving anything away. Perkins looks back and forth between them, head swiveling as if watching a tennis match. He's annoyed that he's on the outside and unaware of what's going on, which makes him realize that he's not in the Chief's confidence.

"So, why'd you end up at the 12th?" Perkins finally asks in his frustration. "It sure as hell wasn't to terrorize politicians."

"No," Gates answers with a roll of her eyes. "I went to the 12th because of my experience in Internal Affairs. Because the Chief knew, or suspected, that there was an issue that went back to the 12th."

"That's ridiculous," Perkins replies flatly. "You're just grasping at straws, trying to cover your ass."

 _Perkins, I'll never understand how you rose this far. Don't you see? Even if the Chief didn't suspect anything about the 12_ _th_ _, he'll be happy to claim that he did. Then Bracken's arrest looks like a long-term NYPD initiative, rather than the work of one tenacious detective and her partner._

"There was a conspiracy at the 12th years ago," Gates explains. "Bracken found out about it and decided to blackmail the participants rather than turn them in. It's how he funded his campaign for Senator. When later events threatened to reveal the conspiracy, he eliminated the threat."

"And you have evidence of this?" Perkins asks, still irritated. "After all this time?"

 _Judge Mathis certainly thought so, since he signed the arrest warrant. What's really going on here? Perkins should know better than to ask such poor questions._

"We have contemporaneous documentation," Gates says in reply to Perkins, though her eyes are still trained on the Chief. "And a tape on which Bracken confesses."

That news leaves Perkins sputtering. He's about to follow up again when the Chief raises his hand slightly. Perkins immediately stills; apparently, this development is finally enough to warrant the direct attention of the Chief. "And you chose not to share the details of this investigation with me before securing the Senator because…" he trails off, providing an oral fill-in-the-blank for Gates.

"Because it's related to a conspiracy within the NYPD, involving players who moved to other precincts. As per standard operating procedure in IA, this investigation was compartmentalized to avoid compromising the investigation or warning the suspect," Gates summarizes, prompting a slow nod from the Chief.

"And the ruse with the luncheon?" the Chief asks again. "How do we defend against a certain lawsuit from the Senator? We could have picked him up at the airport or his local residence, but instead you created a media spectacle."

 _For which you're thrilled, as long as the case stands up. We both know you'll take the lawsuit every day in return for the attention the NYPD wins from breaking a corrupt national politician. Why don't you just kick Perkins out so we can speak plainly?_

"The luncheon served multiple purposes," Gates explains. "First, it assured that Bracken would be here, within our jurisdiction. After the trouble of building the case against him, we weren't interested in giving the collar to the feds." Perkins nods emphatically at this before he remembers that he's aligned himself against Gates. His facial expression suggests that he's starting to regret that decision.

"Second, we _wanted_ the press involved. This is a fantastic showcase for the NYPD – we took down a corrupt politician on the national scene before the feds even knew anything was amiss. And to arrest him at an event honoring the woman whose murder he ordered? That guarantees national coverage."

Perkins shoots the Chief a look to see how he'll respond to this explanation. His dismay heightens when he sees the Chief's small smile and nod.

"Third, we were hunting," Gates summarizes succinctly. "You remember what happened at Roy Montgomery's funeral, including the abuse we took in the press for failing to catch a gunman who nearly killed one police officer in the midst of scores of others. We suspected there might be a sniper overseeing the scene and chose a venue to allow countermeasures."

"I understand the sniper managed to fire before your countermeasures engaged," the Chief says with a raised brow. "Would it not have been more prudent to conduct the Senator and Detective Beckett into a vehicle from the safety of the parking garage?"

 _Here we go. How do I say 'I trusted my people despite my better judgment and I can't explain how they knew that the sniper would miss'?_

"That's true," Gates concedes. "My sniper is former Special Forces and I'm certain that his shot couldn't have happened any faster. I alone am responsible for the shot that the sniper managed before Detective Esposito returned fire."

The Chief nods again, accepting this explanation. _He seems fine with the gamble, since it came out alright. My career would be over if Mr. Castle's assertions of safety proved false. We're still going to have words about that._

"What's the status of the sniper?" the Chief asks, causing Gates another internal grimace.

"He did not survive the ride to the hospital," Gates answers. "We're processing his fingerprints and weaponry now."

"I assume that effort has your highest priority?" the Chief asks.

Gates nods in reply. "In addition to securing the Senator and prepping the DA for the arraignment."

"Is there going to be any trouble there?" the Chief asks. "Is the DA's office going to be difficult about going after one of their own?"

"No, sir," Gates answers. "They seem anxious to prosecute. They're not happy about the shadow that Bracken's actions have cast over them. This is something you and the mayor will need to manage," Gates says as she strokes the Chief's ego, "but I think they're on board."

"Excellent, Victoria, excellent," the Chief answers before the buzzing of his desk phone interrupts him. While he checks the caller ID and reaches to answer the phone, Gates notices Perkins' shock at the Chief's use of her first name.

"Speak of the devil," the Chief mumbles while he punches the speaker phone button. "Bob," the Chief says aloud. "I've got DC Perkins and Captain Gates here. We were just talking about your quiet little lunch event with your writer friend."

"Yeah," Weldon laughs, "Rick sure knows how to throw a party." Gates remains quiet while the men in the room chuckle. _What are you laughing at? At this point, I think I know Mr. Castle better than everyone here except the mayor._

"Listen, Chief," Weldon says to bring them back to business. "I'd like to get together before the press conference to iron things out. Will you come over?" Weldon asks politely, though everyone in the room knows that it's not a request. Perkins sits up a little straighter to catch the Chief's attention and wrangle an invitation.

 _Perkins, you're still waiting for the train that left the station an hour ago._

"Captain Gates," Weldon continues, "I would value your presence as well. Will you please join us?"

Gates is savvy enough to act professional about the invitation, though inside she's exuberant. While she suspects that Castle would've put in a good word for her with the mayor earlier in their 'association' to curry favor with her, it wouldn't have felt right earlier. Now, she and the writer seem to be forming a fragile respect for each other thanks to the Bracken case and his efforts rescuing Beckett's team (along with a strong character reference from Beckett – if she's involved with him, there must be something there beneath the veneer). As long as it happens honestly, she has no qualms about benefiting from the 'networking connections' that usually work against her.

"Certainly, sir," Gates says clearly. "I'd be honored."

"Excellent," Weldon returns. "Don't let me forget that I still owe you fifty bucks," he laughs, prompting curious looks from the Chief and DC that Gates ignores. "Come right over. I'll call the DA just before you arrive, so we can have some time to work things out before he arrives. I'll see you two soon," he says by way of sign-off, causing Perkins to slump in his chair, hopes of an invite dashed.

 _Welcome to the big leagues, Perkins._

The Chief is just about to cut the call when Weldon interjects one last thought. "Oh, and congratulations! This'll teach people not to screw with the NYPD!" With that delivered, Weldon ends the call.

"You have your dress uniform?" the Chief asks Gates, though it's clear he knows the answer.

"In my car, sir," Gates affirms with a nod.

"Then let's not keep the Mayor waiting," he says with a smile, ushering her to the door without so much as a glance at Perkins.

* * *

 **Castle**

"Gates did well up there," Beckett says as the crowd around the television disperses following the end of the press conference.

 _I recognize that wistful look._

"Jealous?" Castle asks. While he might ordinarily tease her, Beckett can tell that his inquiry is a serious one, and she replies in kind.

"Only a little," she admits. "I wouldn't feel right leaving the precinct with him sitting downstairs. But it feels… wrong, somehow, to not be up there in front after dedicating the adult half of my life to this."

"Don't worry," Castle tries to offer as much comfort as he can in the confines of the precinct. "Aside from the live broadcast just now, all the subsequent coverage will just be the clips. And the best clip of the day, by far, happened at lunch," he says with a proud smile. "You were a little too preoccupied to notice, but you were seriously badass when you arrested Bracken. _That's_ the video that will get all the attention this evening."

"Thanks, Castle," Beckett smiles while blushing slightly. "About tonight…"

"No way, Kate," Castle answers immediately, head already shaking. "You're not skipping out on dinner."

"I don't want to," Beckett says with a disappointed tone, "but I just can't leave while he's downstairs. Rain check for after he's arraigned?"

"And you call yourself a detective," Castle shakes his head in dismay. "First: duh, of course you won't leave. Seriously, you thought I wouldn't know this?" Castle says while rolling his eyes. "Second, dinner will be delivered at 6:30. Ryan, Espo, and Lanie will join us in the conference room."

"But, Rick…" Beckett tries to interject, but Castle keeps talking.

 _Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Beckett. You're not the only stubborn one in this partnership._

"Third: your dad is staying at the loft tonight. Everything's probably going to be safe, but I'll feel better knowing he's there, and I know Alexis will, too. I don't know what your dad did to my girl, Kate, but she's the president of his fan club. Almost makes her old dad jealous."

"You're irreplaceable, Rick," Beckett says softly, shyly. "But, I'm glad she feels comfortable with him. It'll help with… future developments."

 _You, Katherine Beckett, are going to be the death of me with your comments like that. Be careful, Detective, I might make some movements on that front sooner than you think. Now, stop distracting me!_

"And fourth. Fourth," Castle says with a pause to reel in his emotions, "is that there is absolutely no force on heaven or earth that will keep me from your side tonight. I'll sit up late and tell you stories. I'll keep watch while you sleep. Hell, I'll even do more paperwork. We're seeing this through _together_ ," Castle finishes with finality.

Beckett stares at him for a moment, seemingly memorizing his expression. "I love you, Rick."

 _A declaration of love in the middle of the bullpen?! Catching Bracken's made you soft!_

Before Castle can call his partner on the blatant violation of her own self-imposed rules about keeping things low-key in the precinct, his attention is captured by the sound of shattering ceramic. There, a few yards away from them, stands a shocked Karpowski. Her broken coffee mug on the floor is eloquent testimony to what she just overheard, but the grin that blossoms on her face provides vivid confirmation.

 _Oh, damn. Not that I'm not looking forward to everyone knowing, but not tonight._

"Roz," Castle says seriously before this gets out of hand. "I don't normally do this, but I need to call in a favor." When Karpowski just quirks an eyebrow and throws him a dubious look, Castle forges ahead. "Remember our talk after my team was captured?" Castle asks and Karpowski's smile fades. "This is my team. We're in the middle of the Bracken thing. Will you give us one day? You can break the news – I'll be thrilled for you to break the news – just let us take care of Bracken without distraction, okay?"

Karpowski looks torn. _She's probably got money riding on this, too_. One look at Beckett confirms that she's thinking the same thing. But Karpowski surprises them both.

"But this is real, right? My blundering in hasn't set you guys back or anything?" she asks, actually looking worried. "You're not going to use this day to try to convince yourselves this is a mistake?"

 _Roz, you're a closet romantic!_

Beckett casts Castle a warm smile and nods to him, letting him answer for them. "Roz, have you heard the joke about the old man who wanders into the confessional?" He continues after Karpowski gives him an exaggerated eye roll and an indulgent smile. "'Father,' he says, 'I'm almost 70 years old and I spent last night making love to 23-year old twins.' The priest considers his penance and asks the man if he knows the prayer of contrition, but is surprised when the old man tells him that he's Jewish. 'You need a rabbi,' says the priest in dismay, 'why did you tell me about this?' 'Father,' the old man answers…"

"'I'm telling everybody!'" Beckett and Karpowski finish the joke in unison.

"Exactly," Castle says earnestly. "That's how I feel about us – I want everyone to know. I hope I speak for both of us when I tell you that we're together and we're very happy," he says while Beckett adds a blushing nod and a mumbled "very, very happy." "We're just anxious to get Bracken in prison," Castle explains. "One night?"

"Of course," Karpowski answers. "I can tell you now that I'm very happy for you both. But tomorrow," she adds with a wink, "I'm going to give you both hell."

 _I'd expect nothing less. Plus, I want to see the look on the boys' faces when Karpowski outs us to the precinct._

"And we'll look forward to it," Beckett replies with a smile and a blush as Castle bends over to collect the pieces of broken coffee mug. After a few minutes cleaning up, Karpowski retreats for a new cup of coffee, but only after adding her congratulations again.

"She's good people," Castle says happily as Karpowski makes her way back to her desk.

"She is," Beckett agrees. "Do we need to talk about whatever you two discussed after your dramatic rescue mission?"

"Not really," Castle says with a shrug. "I don't kiss and tell," he says virtuously, earning a swat in return.

"You'd better not, if you want the possibility of more kisses," Beckett retorts with a wicked look.

Nearly an hour later, Beckett's desk phone rings. After a few terse comments, she thanks the caller and hangs up.

"He's back in his cell," Beckett says to Castle, "his attorney left, and visiting hours are over. Shall we visit him now or after dinner?"

"Why wait?" Castle answers. "But I'm happy to follow your lead, Detective."

 _You've waited many years for this, Kate. You need to confront your demon. But I'll be there beside you, right where I belong._

"Then let's get this started," she replies as she pushes away from her desk. When Castle falls into step beside her, they stop by the door to Gates' office to confirm that she's not yet returned from the press conference. A quick call lets her know that they're heading down to see Bracken. A few minutes later, they're buzzed into Holding, where a call from Gates has cleared their entrance, moved the duty officer outside of Holding, and turned off the video- and audio-recording equipment.

There in his cell sits Senator Bracken. By posture and demeanor, a visitor might think he's holding court or hearing intercessions, based on his unruffled appearance and proud look. He looks up when Beckett and Castle enter and only a brief flicker of hatred mars his politician's mask.

"Come to gloat?" Bracken growls from his cot. "Get a good look, because I won't be behind bars for long. My attorney's about to secure my release now."

"We've had a run of bad liars lately, haven't we?" Beckett says casually to Castle, who chuckles in response. "You're going nowhere before arraignment, Mr. Bracken, and I'm certain that you'll not be granted bail then, either."

"It's _Senator_ Bracken, thank you," he replies testily. "While you might forget it, that still means something, especially to judges."

 _Sounds like someone's big on self-delusion, or a slow learner._

"You're right," Beckett answers with a smirk. "It means 'violation of the public trust.' You'll not be a Senator for much longer anyway, though you'll likely be dead long before you're stripped of your title."

"Threats, now?" Bracken muses. "The darling detective of the 12th precinct making threats against a prisoner? Tsk, tsk, tsk," Bracken sneers. "Though my attorneys will appreciate having yet another piece of evidence to show your fixation on me."

"Too bad we're not recording this meeting," Beckett answers with a roll of her eyes.

"You'll pardon me if I choose not to believe you," Bracken answers.

"That's right," Beckett says with a smile. "You haven't fared well with taped recordings, have you?" _Nice one, Beckett!_ "Again, no matter. We're actually here," Beckett pauses as she looks at Castle, "to offer you a deal, not a threat."

"Oh, this is rich," Bracken replies with a derisive chuckle. "A deal? You accuse me of killing your mother and you want to offer me a deal? Go ahead, lay out your terms. I could use a good laugh."

"We have some _friends_ ," Beckett says while taking another look at Castle, "in other branches of law enforcement. We can work with them to get you sentenced outside of New York, to keep you protected."

"How magnanimous," Bracken sneers. "A better jail cell? That's your offer? Maybe one with a nice view? I heard that the government is looking to sell Plum Island, so you'll have to find someplace else for me. I guess I'm supposed to confess to secure this wonderful reward?"

 _We don't need you to confess, but it would save a lot of heartache if you did._

"No," Beckett answers. "I don't need a confession. Your life is over and we both know it. Even if you beat the court case, your career is blown to hell. Admissible or not, the contents of the file and the tape are going public. You'll be a pariah, anathema to politicians or law firms. The stigma will cling to you and your family like the cloying stench of decay, which is what you and your family will reap – slow, irreversible decay. And that's before the civil suits, of course."

"You're really selling me on this deal," Bracken replies, seemingly invigorated by Beckett's obvious glee in anticipating the difficulties that lie ahead for him. "So, if I don't need to confess, what do I have to do to secure a ticket to this wonderland you propose?"

"Tell me about your partner," Beckett gambles tersely, following the plan they worked out after realizing where the sniper's shot was aimed.

The effect of those five words is immediate – Bracken reddens, then blanches. He doesn't seem to realize that he's scooted himself backwards on his cot and hunched forward, both clear defensive signs.

 _We should've played poker. You're a terrible liar and you can't bluff. How in the hell did you get elected?_

"I don't know who you're talking about," he says after a few moments, prompting a laugh from Beckett.

"Still a bad liar," she says to an amused Castle, who nods in agreement.

"Last chance, Bracken," she says when she turns her attention back to him. "Tell me about your partner."

"Or what?" he challenges in response.

"Or I'll make things difficult for you," she says with a smile.

Bracken stands and moves to the middle of his cell. Throwing his hands out and looking up, he spins in a slow circle. "I've already acclimated to my new circumstances, which will reverse themselves shortly," Bracken boasts. "Go ahead, detective, do your worst."

 _So predictable. You'll regret not taking the deal. Goodbye, Bracken._

Smiling at his challenge, Beckett withdraws her cellphone from her pocket, keeping her eyes on Bracken. His eyebrows rise in response to this move as he watches her curiously. Still smiling, Beckett dials a number. After holding the phone towards Bracken so he can see the recipient of the call and hear her answer, Beckett moves the phone to her ear.

"Hello, sir," Beckett says. "Good news – Bracken wants to turn on his partner."

"What?! No!" Bracken yells, paling again.

"He's a little nervous about his safety, so we'll need to get him a safehouse. Will you call your friends at the FBI and see if we can work something out?"

"Stop it!" Bracken shouts. "I don't have anything! I don't want any kind of deal! I want my attorney!" With each exclamation, Bracken grows more desperate and Beckett's smile grows larger.

"Sure," Beckett says easily into the phone, "after tonight's fine. I know we can't transfer him because of that issue Judge Mathis raised, but we've got extra officers on duty. We can worry about a transfer tomorrow. Yes, thank you, sir. Good evening."

With a satisfied look on her face, Beckett ends the call. Bracken, looking ashen, shuffles over and collapses onto his cot.

"You just killed me," he says in a low voice. "I'm a dead man."

"Then I guess your only chance is to talk to us," Beckett answers.

"Fuck you," Bracken seethes. "I'm not telling you a thing. I should've had you killed. Just like your mom, but I should've done it myself. But it's not too late for me to make a call."

 _Hang on, Kate. Don't let him goad you._

"Sadly," Beckett replies while appearing completely unaffected by his threat, "your phone privileges are exhausted for the evening and visiting hours are done for the day. We'll see how amenable you are to talking in the morning, assuming you're still alive."

Beckett stands and extends a hand to Castle, who gives Bracken a satisfied smile as he links hands with her. "You up for dinner, partner?" Beckett asks.

 _Only every night for the rest of my life._

"Of course," Castle answers happily. "Any last requests, Bracken?"

"That you burn in hell," he growls in response.

The partners merely chuckle as if he made a cute joke, then turn in unison toward the door.

"Goodbye," Beckett calls out as the door buzzes to allow their departure.

"And good riddance," Castle finishes as they leave Bracken behind.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"You should go get some rest on the sofa," Castle suggests. It's not terribly late, but the stress of the day is taking its toll. The precinct is quiet and calm, the lights dimmed. If not for the prisoner downstairs, tonight's vigil might actually be relaxing, intimate.

 _You're so good at taking care of me. When I let you._

"I'm okay," Beckett answers, reaching out and rubbing Castle's knee. "Maybe in a little while I'll go curl up on the sofa and let you tell me a story," she answers with a slow smile. "But not yet." She pauses for a moment, thinking again about the strange set of circumstances that led to Bracken being held downstairs, before looking up at Castle again. "Dinner was nice. Thank you for putting it together, getting our friends there."

"'Course," Castle answers earnestly. "Today was a big day – we had to celebrate. And once we close this thing for good, we're going to have a party that blows the roof off the Haunt!"

 _Sounds like an opportunity to make some plans for the next chapter in our lives._

"Dad says hello, by the way," Beckett replies. "Sounds like they had their own little celebration at the loft."

"They did," Castle agrees. "Despite Mother's best efforts, dinner was still delicious, I hear," he says with a chuckle. "The redheads wanted me to pass along their congratulations again."

"We'll make sure they're at the celebration," Beckett says fondly, surprising herself by realizing that all she needs is her team ( _including Lanie, of course_ ), Castle's family, and her dad. Seven people who mean the world to her. Seven people who –

Beckett's train of thought immediately derails as the precinct goes dead, all power cut. Grabbing her desk phone, she's unsurprised to find that it's dead, too.

 _No! He won't escape!_

"Bracken!" she shouts, though Castle's already on the move, too. They make their way cautiously toward the stairs until a light blossoms ahead of Castle. He's cupping his hand as if holding a flashlight, but only as a cover; it's actually one of those balls of light he's so adept at making that's providing the illumination.

Vaulting down the stairs, they bolt for Holding, where a special cell was arranged to detain Bracken until arraignment, a nod to his unique status and the concern about moving such a prominent prisoner. They smell trouble before they see it, which just makes things worse. The olfactory evidence of severe burning hardly prepares them for the charred remains of Officers Cruz and Murray, whose bodies are curled up on the floor next to the door. Castle stops to check, but it takes only a moment before he's rising again, shaking his head.

 _More death to add to Bracken's bill._

"We can't get in!" Beckett says in dismay, her voice sounding like a shout in the dark quiet of the hallway. "The door is electronically controlled!"

"We can do this, Kate," Castle says calmly, trying to get her to focus. "It's just like how we got the file – we can move right through the door."

 _Says the guy who can do all this stuff._

" _You_ got the file, not me," Beckett argues, "and you said you couldn't do it to a person!"

"Trust me?" Castle asks as he holds out his hand. Beckett doesn't even need time to blink before she reaches out. Castle doesn't even wait, he just pulls her into his chest and moves backwards through the door.

As they pass into Holding, Beckett's surprised that there's light inside. She looks at Castle's face to see his satisfaction at having gotten them through the door, but that look's immediately replaced by a rictus of pain that Beckett shares, both through the connection and because whatever hit Castle moved onto her, too. Before she can comprehend what's going on, Beckett feels herself lifted off the ground and slammed against the cage wall of a holding cell. She's pinned against the wall, held in place by an invisible force, and Castle's pinned next to her.

She and Castle lock eyes and recognize the fear in each other's gazes. Whoever is holding them is strong – far, far stronger than anyone they've encountered so far.

They turn their heads together, both seeking an answer to what's going on. What they find is the scene from a horror movie. On the floor are two more officers – Davies and Hunter, also the victims of fatal electrical burns. Bracken's in the center of his cell, whimpering while apparently locked in place, unable even to move his jaw enough to clearly enunciate his words. And there – off to the side of Bracken's cell – is the dark figure who must be responsible for this tableau. The figure is looking at Beckett and Castle, but they can only determine this from the angle of his head, since his face is masked in a clinging black cloud that seems to shift and roil. Combined with the dark clothes and gloves, the look is terrifying.

"Stop, please," Bracken manages to gasp. His plea accomplishes nothing except to draw the attention of the dark figure. While he doesn't move, the bodies of Davies and Hunter start to slide across the floor until they're next to Bracken's cell, within what would be Bracken's reach if he could move freely. "I didn't say anything. You don't have to do this," Bracken mumbles.

 _We did this. We called his executioner. This isn't how it was supposed to end._

"You knew the cost of drawing attention," the figure says in an easy tone. "You were dead as soon as that file came out. You should thank the detective and her partner," the figure says with a nod towards Beckett and Castle. "Their theatrics with the Scholarship Fund and your arrest actually bought you an extra day of life. I hope you used it to put your affairs in order."

"My family," Bracken mumbles. "Please leave my family out of this."

"You knew the cost of drawing attention," the figure repeats with grim finality. Somehow, though he's being held in the middle of the cell, Bracken's posture still seems to collapse inward as he realizes the likely fate of his family.

 _Oh, God. He killed my mother, and now his family is dead, too?_

Beckett and Castle had been focusing on Bracken, but movement outside the cell catches their attention. The belts of the dead officers have come undone and are sliding out of the belt-loops. Handcuff and nightstick holsters clatter to the ground as the belts come free and make their way into the cell. They climb Bracken like amorous snakes, twirling and twining as they circle him, provoking whimpers and tears. Bracken is so terrified that it takes him a moment to realize that he's slowly moving upward, floating off the floor and toward the wall of the cell.

The belts separate, making the end of this scene apparent. One circles Bracken's neck, cinching tight at an excruciatingly slow pace. The other climbs upward and wraps around the cell bars at the top. The belt ends then slowly come together and knot themselves. Only the invisible force holding him off the ground prevents Bracken's imminent asphyxiation.

"Goodbye, Senator," the dark figure says.

 _Not like this!_

Suddenly, as if a trapdoor had opened beneath him, Bracken's body falls. There's no fear of a slow strangling death as he fights for air, as the sickening snap makes it clear that the force of the fall broke his neck.

"No!" Castle screams out and somehow drops to the floor. Landing in a crouch, he lifts a hand and unleashes hell in the form of a near-solid wall of arcing electrical bolts. The dark figure crosses his hands in front of him and the bolts bend around him, leaving him untouched.

Castle suddenly withdraws the hand that he'd pointed at the figure. Impossibly, he's calling the bolts _back_ to him. Surprised by this move, Bracken's executioner takes the full charge in the back, blowing him off his feet and sending him flying through the air toward them, leaving smoky tendrils in his wake. It looks like Castle's going to try to hit him as he approaches, until he rolls backwards just as the figure arrives. Castle's move apparently masked his effort to push the figure, increasing his speed as he flies through the air. The figure shoots toward the entry door to Holding, hitting with an impact that should've knocked the door free.

 _How did you…?! Give him hell, Castle!_

The figure slumps to the floor, but Castle is thrown back into position next to Beckett even as he falls. Aside from Castle's grunts as he tries to free himself, the room is silent for a few moments until the dark figure slowly rises again. In silence, he straightens himself and approaches the partners, limping slightly. Rather than cheer that Castle managed to hurt the executioner, Beckett feels dread creep over her.

There's a unique kind of terror that grips the soul when certain death approaches. Beckett's seen it before, in the eyes of victims or murderers. But she's feeling it first-hand, now. Her only consolations are that she saw to the end of at least one key member in her mother's murder and she finally, finally found love with Castle.

 _I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, Rick, but at least we had a small taste of forever._

Remarkably, though, Castle's got one desperate shot left in him. While he, too, was counting his blessings and praying fervently for the safety of his family, he was also seized by the need to see his killer face-to-face. And while that killer was apparently blocking any of Castle's aggressive moves and attempts to escape, he didn't or wasn't able to stop what probably appeared as an innocuous move by Castle.

Stealing the trick that had disrupted his disguise as Diane Economides, Castle fills the room with a pale, orange light. The dark figure cocks his head even as the light burns away the mask behind which he hides.

"I'll be damned," the executioner says, apparently impressed by learning a new trick or by Castle's efforts to fight until the very end.

"You already are," Castle growls in response.

Beckett takes in the details of their assailant as he and Castle stare at each other. He's older than she thought he'd be, maybe mid-70s, but that makes sense – an older Gamma is likely to either be exceptionally gifted at hiding or exceptionally powerful from a lifetime of training, surviving, and maybe killing. Silver hair, a trimmed goatee, and, incongruously, lines around his mouth and eyes that suggest many smiles and much laughter.

 _The executioner must enjoy his job._

"You've done well," the old man says conversationally to Castle, but he turns to look at Beckett to share his praise. "You have the only measure of justice you're going to get, and you're not strong enough to accomplish anything more. I strongly recommend," he says ominously as he turns back to Castle, "that you take it and don't look back. I was not sent to kill you. This time."

"Were you sent to kill Cruz, Murray, Davies, or Hunter?" Castle growls.

"Collateral damage," the old man says with a dispassionate shrug. "Necessary to ensure that it looked like Bracken took advantage of the accident at the power transfer station, which caused an explosive surge here at the precinct."

"Your little suicide scene suffers from two witnesses," Castle retorts.

 _Castle, shut up! Are you trying to get him to kill us?_

"We both know better than that," the old man replies easily. "You can't say a word without revealing yourself as a Gamma. That would end your carefree days as an author playing cop," he says with a smile. "It would also draw a radiant target on precious Alexis."

 _Oh, sweet Lord. He knows about Castle and his family. What have I done?_

"You leave her out of this!" Castle gasps, face purpling with the effort to break free again.

"That's up to you," the old man says, panting himself with the effort of keeping Castle restrained. "We do strange, terrible things to protect our family. No one knows better than I do," he says as he turns and starts to walk toward the far wall, through which he'll apparently move to escape from the precinct undetected.

"This is twice I've let you live," the old man says after he turns to face them. "There won't be a third time. Clear out of here, take your winnings, and go home to Martha and Alexis. It was good to see you, son, but I'll kill you if it happens again."

* * *

A/N2: There you go, a new mystery for the final update of 2015. From someone looking forward to what 2016 has to offer, best wishes for a safe and blessed new year. Have fun tonight!


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

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* * *

 **Beckett**

Sighing yet again at her partner's absence, Beckett makes her way to the break room to engage in another round of solo combat with the espresso machine. It's been acting temperamental all week, enough so that she's starting to wonder if it, too, shares a connection with Castle. Looking very much forward to a day off tomorrow when she can finally spend some real time with him rather than the stolen moments they've cobbled together in the days since Bracken's death, Beckett drifts over to the cabinet to root around for her favorite mug.

It's been absolute chaos at the precinct and the general state of disarray looks like it won't end soon. Half the Con Ed workers are still scurrying around the building, trying to figure out how the precinct sustained such significant electrical damage following a transformer explosion. The other half are running around trying to make repairs while staying out of the way of their colleagues. OSHA representatives are here too, escorted by the Union representatives who are determined to ensure that shoddy utility work doesn't claim the lives of any more officers. _As if that's what happened to my colleagues._ And, cutting through that sea of bodies like sharks on the prowl are the members of the NYPD's Internal Review team, throwing scowls and accusations as they build a file on the conditions that led to a situation in which a guarded Senator was able to commit suicide in the precinct.

Missing in all the commotion is Castle, who hasn't been back to the precinct in the nine days following that terrible night. In an emergency meeting held in the alley the night of the "accident," Gates asked Castle to keep a low profile until the storm from Bracken's death passes, or at least lessens. The closest he's come to the precinct is the funeral for the fallen officers. He made the trip upstate to oversee the Bracken funeral alone, as Gates and Beckett's team were in closed meetings with the Review Board.

 _The timing of that meeting had to be intentional, with the brass at One PP anxious to avoid any pictures of me watching them put Bracken in the ground._

From what Castle said, the Bracken funeral was sparsely attended, the cloud of accusations hanging over the former Senator apparently scaring away most of his political friends. Castle'd called another "guy he knows" to secure images (using electronic cameras, just in case) of everyone at the funeral (or working at the cemetery, learning from past experience), but there don't appear to be any leads from that effort.

 _His work was done, so I guess there was no need for Bracken's partner to attend the funeral. Castle should've put on a Bracken illusion and started walking around –_ then _we would've seen a reaction._

But the worst, the absolute worst aspect of this whole situation, is that Castle seems to be closing himself off after the shock of meeting the man who claimed to be his father. Not only has he steadfastly refused to engage in any discussion of the man, but Beckett can feel his emotional turmoil through their connection. He's a roiling mess of emotions, flashing through guilt, depression, anger, betrayal, fear, and sorrow. Every once in a while, she feels an odd twinge of happiness and satisfaction from Castle, immediately followed by a crippling wave of shame – she's sure these are times when his brief thoughts that he might have a dad are hammered down by the weight of what his father must've done to become so overpoweringly strong, how casually he killed four innocent officers to silence Bracken.

She feels the guilt, too, unable to deny her role in the death of those officers. Those colleagues died because of the efforts to contain and turn Bracken. She suspects that her connection to Castle is making things worse, creating a feedback loop that builds their guilt like a boulder accumulating snow as it crashes down a mountain. Beckett knows that he isn't sleeping well, is pushing himself hard, but a local uptick in murderous rages has kept Beckett working insane hours herself. And while not personally responsible for the workload, Gates looks happy that her precinct is so busy, as it helps distract from the Bracken fiasco.

With everything that's going on, all Beckett's been able to do is steal little snatches of time with Castle, a quick lunch-break here or a nap there. Mindful of their connection, she's also been more careful to get as much rest and food as her schedule allows in order to keep them both going.

Beckett's so lost in thought that she doesn't notice the visitor until she turns and nearly drops her mug in surprise.

"Sorry," Karpowski apologies with a rueful grin, "didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"My fault," Beckett says with a weak smile as she turns to convince the machine to dispense some much-needed caffeine. Motioning for Karpowski to hand her a mug, Beckett serves them both in silence.

Nodding her thanks, Karpowski takes a sip and then looks into her mug. "No offense, Beckett, but I'm gonna guess that Castle's the barista in your partnership."

"True," Beckett confesses with a rueful look into her own cup. "Even when I'm on top of my game and the machine's working right, I can't recreate his magic. After this week," she says as she blows out a long breath that ripples her bangs, "I'm lucky that it tastes better than the old stuff we used to choke down."

"It does?" Karpowski asks with another dubious look into her mug.

"You've been spoiled, too, haven't you?" Beckett asks, refusing to rise to the bait about her poorly-made coffee.

"He's fixed me a cup now and then," Karpowski agrees. "For that alone, I'd welcome him to my team."

 _Subtle, Roz. Trying to see if I'll get territorial?_

"Gee, detective, it almost sounds like you're fishing for a reaction, verbal or otherwise," Beckett says with a lifted brow.

Karpowski nods, not necessarily in agreement but in acknowledgment of her ploy. Looking around to ensure that they're alone, she lowers her voice. "Just checking to see if I really did mess things up between you two. I know Castle asked for a day to deal with Bracken, but he hasn't been back since," she says while looking intently at Beckett for any clues. "I was looking forward to making an announcement, but the only time I've seen him since then was at the funeral. And he didn't look very approachable then."

 _No, he certainly didn't. He was furious. Guilty and depressed, too, but mostly furious that four innocent officers were murdered. Everyone else there thought they died in a freak accident, so Castle's reaction drew some attention._

"We're okay," Beckett says quietly. "Gates asked him to take a break until all this," she says with the wave an arm toward the visitors and workers visible through the recently repaired windows of the break room, "settles down."

"And we've been busy," Karpowski adds while taking another sip of coffee, before grimacing again.

"Life in the big city," Beckett agrees fatalistically. "But I'm finally off tomorrow. I'm looking forward to spending the day with him," she finishes happily.

"And the night, I'm sure," Karpowski says with a raised brow of her own, pushing her luck as one of the few who knows what's going on between Beckett and her partner.

"Roz," Beckett says with a direct look, "you have _NO_ idea." Then, smirking to herself about recycling her line from her first case with Castle, she answers Karpowski's surprised look by simply taking another sip of coffee with a smug smile.

"Detective Beckett," Gates calls from the doorway, causing both women to turn, knowing that she was too far away to hear anything but anxious to drop their conversation nonetheless. "I need to talk to you about your statement. Where we had your personnel review in five?" Gates asks with an admirably blank face.

"Yes, sir," Beckett answers before she turns to the sink and dumps her coffee, giving it up as a poor job. She's reaching for the sponge to wash out her mug when Karpowski dumps her cup, too.

"Thank God," Karpowski says dramatically. "I was only choking that down to be polite. Make sure you leave your partner with enough energy to come back and fix this for us, okay?"

* * *

 **Victoria Gates**

Beckett is already in the HR conference room when Gates arrives. Wasting no time, she asks "Are we clear?"

"I didn't find anything," Beckett shrugs in reply. She's not sure she'd necessarily find any recording devices, but she checked as well as she could.

 _Where to start this discussion?_

"It's only the second time we've used this room," Gates says as she pulls out a chair, "so we should be okay. We'll have to work out a better system going forward."

"Can Castle come back yet, sir?" Beckett asks, hijacking the start of the meeting.

 _Thank you, detective, I'd planned on working up to this topic, but this is a good lead-in to get right to it._

"Perhaps," Gates replies cagily, catching Beckett's attention. "We need this conversation to be quick – I've still got interlopers messing around in my building and I don't want them to run into us," she says in exasperation before growing serious. "As the Bracken investigation winds down, I've been spending a lot of time with the statements and reports," she says by way of introduction, while Beckett nods along. "You trusted me, the last time we were in this room," she says with a circular gesture. "Can I trust you to be honest with me, too?"

"Yes, sir," Beckett replies curiously, wondering about where Gates is going with this discussion.

"Did you or Mr. Castle kill Senator Bracken?" Gates asks, hiding her satisfaction at the stunned look on Beckett's face. It's Gates who starts to look shocked when Beckett looks down at her lap for a moment rather than immediately reject the question.

 _No. They couldn't have. They wouldn't have gone that far._

"Only by locking him up," Beckett says in a low voice, "and by following our plan to talk about him rolling on his partner on the line between my cell and your desk phone. We put him in place," Beckett says with a sigh, "and compromised him. Made sure someone had incentive to eliminate him."

"So he _was_ killed?" Gates asks. When Beckett only nods, Gates follows up. "How do you know?"

"Sir…," Beckett trails off, unwilling to fully take the Captain into their confidence, and fully aware that she'd not likely believe the story anyway.

 _So, a national politician was assassinated in my precinct? Why do I suspect that I'm living the plot of some ridiculous pot-boiler?_

After a few moments of silence, Gates restarts their conversation. "Fine. There's another topic I'd like to discuss – why don't we start there and we'll come back to this," she suggests, sounding less fierce than usual, which Beckett notices.

Gates pauses for a bit to collect her thoughts and figure out the best way to proceed. "Do you like Mr. Castle's books?"

Her look of surprise quickly turning into an embarrassed grin, Beckett nods. "I do. It might sound a little self-aggrandizing since he's writing about someone based on me, but I was a big fan even before we met. I'll trust," Beckett says with a suddenly serious look, "that you won't share that with him, though."

 _Good to know that she's keeping him in check even away from the precinct._

Quirking her lips and giving a quick nod of agreement, Gates continues. "You haven't read his most incredible work," she says, capturing Beckett's attention. "I can promise you, he's written no better piece of fiction than the statement about how he rescued your team after you were captured."

 _This is almost like doing an interrogation again. And you, detective, have either gotten soft or decided to let your guard down around me. It couldn't be more clear that there's something going on here._

"You should be dead," Gates says when Beckett remains quiet, "and yet, here you sit. _Somehow_ , your untrained, undisciplined civilian partner tracked you down, infiltrated a locked facility, and took six men out of action, severely incapacitating three of them in the process."

When Beckett merely looks back impassively, Gates continues. "And then, we work out a plan for arresting the Senator. A plan that involves intentionally presenting you as a vulnerable target to a sniper." At this reference, Beckett can't help an involuntary flinch. " _He_ assures me, and you back him up, that any sniper's shot would miss. And that's exactly what happened."

Again, Beckett sits impassively, blank face back in place.

"Ordinarily, I would assume that you were colluding with the sniper, that the miss was intentional," Gates thinks aloud. "But that theory doesn't fit the facts, does it? In fact, the only theories that seem to explain what's happened are so ridiculous as to make Mr. Castle's usual offerings seem pedestrian in comparison."

Beckett looks torn, but still maintains her silence until Gates makes it clear that she's willing to wait. _I'm done talking. Now, it's your turn. Time to justify my faith in you._

"You know Castle," Beckett starts carefully, "well enough to know that he's not shy about singing his own praises. If your speculation had any basis in fact, do you really think he'd be quiet about it?"

"Detective," Gates replies like a parent who's caught her child in a lie, "your partner is very adept at deflecting attention when he wants to," she says with a sly look. "Certainly better than you," she adds, noting the faintest blush appear high on Beckett's cheeks. "The more time I spend with Mr. Castle, the more I learn to see past his façade. I think," she says, finally answering Beckett's question, "that he would be very proficient at being quiet about something if he needed to be."

"That's probably true," Beckett replies, ruminating as if this is a theoretical discussion. "If, say, there would be dire consequences for his daughter or loved ones," she says, looking down briefly, "then I imagine Castle would be _very_ careful to ensure that he maintained a low profile."

 _So, we're going to speak in subtext and hypotheticals, are we? At least she seems willing to entertain the discussion – that's more than I've gotten from her partner._

Giving her a curious look, Gates nods slightly. "But Mr. Castle's family and _loved ones_ ," she says with a raised brow at Beckett, causing the blush to darken by a degree, "must be used to him being in the public eye. There can't be anything new about that kind of scrutiny."

"Unless, of course," Beckett hypothesizes, "what the media pays attention to isn't what's really important. I wonder," she says while pinning the captain with a look of her own, "if there are any examples of Castle keeping things from the media."

 _Of course – our discussion after I reviewed his statement. He assured me that nothing about the kidnapping or his rescue efforts would appear in the press. He wasn't listening to me, he was protecting himself!_

"And if he's keeping it from the press," Gates continues their thought experiment, "then it stands to reason that he'd be anxious to keep it out of any police reports, too."

"Yes," Beckett nods. "That would make sense."

"The problem, though," Gates continues, "is one of accountability. If everything were hidden, how would anyone know if he is conducting himself with the decorum required by his association with the NYPD, or even within the bounds of the law?"

"It would be a problem," Beckett concedes, "if he hadn't proven himself trustworthy, if he didn't have a close partner who was completely accountable, both to herself and to the NYPD."

Beckett pauses for a moment to accentuate her next comment, then continues while her eyes bore into those of her boss. "Of course, others in similar circumstances might not be so constrained. In fact," Beckett adds ominously, "there might be others who could be fundamentally corrupt, who would be acting in a way that would justify the direct intervention of the NYPD."

 _What have we stumbled into here? How many people could be involved in something like this?_

"That possibility would terrify me," Gates admits honestly. "If that were true, then none of us would be safe."

"I'm afraid you're right," Beckett agrees. "You could be in a locked room, surrounded by four armed guards, and still not be safe."

 _And there it is – as close to an explanation or confession as I'm going to get for Bracken's death, I suspect._

"How," Gates starts to ask, before taking a breath and collecting her thoughts. "How might we guard against something like that?"

"That's something we've been trying to figure out," Beckett confesses. "It's something Castle's been especially focused on since he's had to leave the precinct. Unless he's had any breakthroughs, the only answer we've got so far is vigilance and careful use of the resources already at hand."

 _In other words, Mr. Castle is protecting us right now while the two of you try to figure something out. For someone so independent, Detective, you seem unusually willing to defer to your partner on this. I don't know if that means you're more involved with Mr. Castle than I thought, you have reason to know that he's capable of doing this on his own, or if you're hiding something about yourself, too._

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Gates asks tentatively, worried about what her offer might entail.

"Can you get the murderers of the city to ease up for a bit?" Beckett asks with a rueful grin. "I think the only thing that'll help is time. Time and presence. The sooner Castle can come back to the precinct, the better for all of us, I think." After a short pause, she continues. "I'm getting worried about him," Beckett confesses in an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability.

"Of course," Gates answers immediately. "Perhaps an absence of this duration was an overreaction on my part. Go close your files and go home, Detective. Bring your partner back for your next shift," Gates says as she stands, signaling an end to their discussion.

"Thank you, sir," Beckett says as she rises and raises her hand. Surprised, Gates takes it in a brief, firm clasp before turning to the door.

 _You're certainly more expressive these days. It's a nice thing to see._

"I want to talk about this again, away from here, with your partner present," Gates adds just when Beckett thinks she's escaped the interrogation.

"Yes, sir," Beckett replies glumly, knowing that she and Castle have some hard decisions to make about exactly how much they're going to confide in Gates. "Let me talk to Castle and we'll figure something out."

As they're walking back to Homicide, Gates can't help but to probe just a little bit. "I must say, Detective, you've developed quite an ability to use subtext and slight expression changes to convey your message," she says, with a nod back towards the HR conference room. "Almost makes me think you might've had practice."

" _Years_ of practice," Beckett says with a smile, eliciting a small chuff from Gates. "But you know what?" she asks rhetorically. "It's not productive in the long-term. Sometimes," she adds with a wistful smile, "there's just no substitute for direct talk."

"And direct action," Gates agrees with a nod to see if she can provoke another reaction. Beckett's wise to her this time, though, so all she gets is a raised brow in response. "It looks like you'll have another opportunity earlier than you might've expected," Gates says, nodding towards Beckett's desk as they clear the steps and walk into Homicide. There, in Castle's usual chair, sits an anxious-looking Alexis.

"I suspect your team can close your files," Gates offers kindly. "Perhaps your energies would be better invested in other areas right now. Goodbye, Detective Beckett," she says as she approaches the door to her office, wondering why her Detective suddenly looks so concerned.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Alexis?" Beckett asks as she approaches, catching the young woman's attention. "Is everything alright?"

"No," Alexis answers succinctly, looking uncomfortable. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Certainly," Beckett says quickly. _She sought me out and there's not been one eye roll or uncomfortable remark. Something's very wrong._ "Hey guys," she calls out to Ryan and Esposito, both of whom are failing miserably at pretending they're not eavesdropping. "I'm clocking out. Will you take care of the Cooper paperwork?"

"Sure, boss," Esposito answers directly, while Ryan offers a nod and a thumbs-up.

"Detective Beckett," Alexis interrupts, "we don't have to leave. We can just talk in a conference room or something."

"Come on," Beckett replies while closing down her computer and grabbing her things. "Let's get out of here, go somewhere we can talk comfortably."

Alexis nods, unable to hide her surprise that Beckett is willing to put work aside. _Bet you didn't think that could happen. Maybe I haven't given you any reason to think it's possible._

With her things in hand, Beckett nods towards the elevator. The ladies wish Ryan and Esposito well on their way out, and Beckett's shocked by the absence of wisecracks or jokes. Alexis looks a little more relaxed, but still uncomfortable – the boys must've picked up on her distress. And if there's anyone for whom they both have a soft spot, it's Alexis. Her father's fair game, but Alexis might as well be an adopted daughter. _Besides, if either of them gave her any trouble, Lanie would string them up_.

"Where would you like to go?" Beckett asks as the elevator descends to the ground floor. "Maybe coffee? Or an early dinner?" Alexis, who's quiet now that they've left the precinct, just shrugs. "I know a good place," Beckett offers into the silence, stepping to the curb and throwing out her hand to catch a cab.

Ten minutes and one silent ride later, the cab pulls in front of Beckett's apartment building. Alexis is still lost in thought, following almost on autopilot. It's not until they enter the lobby that Alexis realizes that they're not headed to a café or restaurant. She seems to relax a little, and Beckett breathes a sigh of relief that her gamble paid off.

"What can I get you to drink?" Beckett asks as they enter her apartment, trying to act as casual as possible.

"Water, please?" Alexis asks, seeming to show signs of reengaging soon.

"Sure," Beckett replies cheerfully. "Make yourself at home."

A few minutes later, Beckett returns with water glasses in hand. Proving her lineage, Alexis isn't sitting calmly on the sofa, but is instead standing in front of the bookshelf inspecting the titles. Beckett notices the change in her posture immediately – whatever caused her reticence in the precinct or on the way here must've been banished. Alexis is ready to talk.

"What would you like to talk about?" Beckett asks gently as she passes Alexis the glass of water and takes a seat on one end of the sofa. _Let's see where you choose to sit – that might tell me a lot about how this conversation is going to go._

Alexis steps gracefully to the sofa and takes a seat, spinning in place and lifting a leg so she can pivot and look at Beckett. The first thing she sees is a welcome smile.

"Dad," Alexis says with a sigh. "I'd like to talk to you about Dad."

"Is he okay?" Beckett asks immediately, leaning forward and putting her water on the coffee table.

"No," Alexis answers sadly. "He's pretending he's fine, but he's not."

"I know he's not been sleeping well and that he's been pushing himself pretty hard. I can tell," Beckett says while her hand drifts to cover the scar on her chest. _I've got to quell that habit – it's an obvious tell to my nexus._ "But he's seemed okay when I've seen him."

"He's a better actor than you think," Alexis says, her words a mix of pride and worry. "He's very upset about something." Alexis pauses for a moment, seeming to think about something before she looks up at Beckett. "Is it you?"

"No," Beckett answers softly, after working out Alexis' question. "I would've said that we're fine – better than fine, actually – except it sounds like something's wrong with Rick and I don't know what's going on," she says with irritation both at herself and her partner.

Alexis nods, satisfied that Beckett's not the cause of Castle's distress. _Thank you, Alexis, for asking me about it and not just assuming that I've hurt him again. But now we're in dangerous waters – I know why your dad is upset, but it sounds like he hasn't talked to you about what happened. And I don't know if it's my place to tell you the story._

"He's not sleeping," Alexis says quietly. "He's pretending to sleep, but he's always awake. Even… even Saturday and Monday," she says with a blush, which Beckett shares.

 _You know about that?! But we were so careful!_

"Alexis, I'm sorry…" Beckett starts to apologize before Alexis cuts her off.

"You don't need to apologize," Castle's daughter interjects. "I'm not completely naïve, and I appreciate that you've tried to be subtle while still spending some time together at home." After a short pause, she steers the conversation back to where it started. "But as soon as you left, he was up and working again."

"Is he writing?" Beckett asks hopefully, knowing the answer.

"No," Alexis answers. "He's practicing. And it's getting out of hand," she says as she stands and walks to the front door, bending to retrieve her backpack. Pulling out a beautiful leather-bound journal ( _definitely the daughter of a writer_ ), Alexis opens it as she walks back to her seat. Pulling a folded paper from between the journal's pages, she takes a moment to press out the creases before passing the paper to Beckett.

It's an online article, printed from a climatology website. The article speaks in reverent terms of the rare twin waterspouts that were photographed on Lake Ontario yesterday, which baffled meteorologists given the Szilagyi Index value of -9 for the day, whatever that means. That would've been the day after Bracken's funeral, when Castle was on his way back to the city.

"Rick?" Beckett asks after skimming the article. Alexis nods softly, reclaiming the article and taking the time to ensure that it's stored using the same fold lines, treating the page with respectful care. "I think so. I asked him what took him so long to get back and he was evasive. The car's GPS says he went to Montario Point – it's on the East shore of Lake Ontario and nowhere near the route back from the funeral, but very close to where the waterspouts happened."

The two women look at each other, each trying to imagine what must've happened on the shore of that lake. _So much for keeping a low profile._

"I had no idea," Beckett whispers. "Why didn't he talk to me?"

"He's out of control," Alexis whispers as her eyes tear up. "It's like living in a haunted house. There's always noises, movements. I swear I even saw a ripple in the air like in that stupid Predator movie that he insists isn't trash. Something's got him scared and he's killing himself trying to become a damn sorcerer or something."

 _And here we are. How do I comfort you without telling you what's going on? If Castle hasn't told you, he doesn't want you to know. As thankful as I am that you came to me, as much as I'd like to think that talking about this would bring us closer together, I can't do that to your father._

"You know why, don't you?" Alexis says while studying Beckett's face. "You know what's pushed him over the edge. Is it that guy you caught, the one who was hunting people like me?" she asks, apparently concerned about referencing Gammas directly.

"No," Beckett answers with sorrow, "that suspect died when we arrested him. Don't worry," Beckett says, seeing Alexis' look of alarm, "your dad had him in hand from the time we found him. But the suspect made a threatening move toward Ryan, and Espo protected his partner," Beckett says succinctly.

 _That answer's cold comfort, though, because the reason for your dad's distress is far worse. And it'll hit you the same way it hit him, for the same reason._

Taking a deep breath, Beckett addresses the thornier issue. "I think I know what's bothering Rick," Beckett confesses. "Actually, I need to be more honest with you. I _certainly_ know what's bothering your father. Which makes me all the more ashamed that I haven't noticed what you're telling me. I thought he was doing okay," she says sadly.

"So?" Alexis asks urgently, "What's going on? How do we get him to calm down?" Alexis asks, sounding almost frantic. "I want my Dad back," she says with tears running down her cheeks.

 _Oh, God. You don't know how many times I've said those exact same words. And yet I didn't notice how hard meeting his father hit Castle. If losing mom devastated us, why would Castle be any less shattered by learning his long-missed father is a killer? Especially after spending the last several years working Homicide?_

"Alexis," Beckett says as she reaches out and puts a gentle, tentative hand on the young woman's knee. "I love that you and Rick have such a wonderful relationship. I hope that you and I can get closer, too. But it wouldn't be right for me to tell you what's going on – I'd be improving my bond with you at the cost of Castle's. I've made some terrible mistakes, as you know," she says while giving Alexis' knee a squeeze, "but I'm getting better. And I never want to come between you and your father."

"Will you help him, then?" Alexis pleads, tears still streaming.

"Of course," Beckett says decisively. As she stands, Beckett casts an eye towards her bedroom, momentarily torn.

 _Not sure that would go over well right now._

"Grab your things," Alexis suggests as she stands, her blush nearly obscured by her sniffling. "He'll slow down while you're there. If it means he'll sleep through the night, I'd like you to stay. Please."

"Alexis," Beckett manages to say around the lump in her throat, "I know we're not close yet. But…," she trails off, shy. Then, not sure if she's offering comfort or asking for it, she raises her arms while giving Alexis a hesitant look.

If Castle's daughter is surprised, Beckett can't tell by her facial expression because Alexis' face is suddenly lodged in the crook of Beckett's neck. The poor girl is sobbing, and with each tear or raspy breath Beckett feels a little closer to Alexis and a little guiltier for her failure to notice what's happened to Castle since Bracken's death. With each soothing stroke of her hand to Alexis' back or hair, Beckett builds her resolve to help Castle. He's supported her for years, and she's going to return the effort.

* * *

A/N2: So, a triple apology: a late update, a short chapter, and one in which the characters didn't quite behave as expected. I'd hoped to get to Beckett's meeting with Castle in this chapter, but it'll have to wait until the next update. As for this one, I hope it reads well. I'm back in Castle's neck of the woods for another marketing trip, with a long client dinner. Most of the letters above seem to be in the right order, even if they are a little blurry.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

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* * *

 **Beckett**

"Good luck," Alexis says quietly to Beckett as they part after entering the loft.

"Thanks," Beckett replies, trying to build her confidence for her talk with Castle. "You'll talk to Martha about our project?"

"Yes, as soon as she gets back," Alexis nods. "I'll go do what I can right now." With that, Alexis turns and heads for the stairs to her room. Beckett, meanwhile, drops her bag and slips off her boots before padding toward the office. Taking a cue from the silence in the loft, she hopes that Castle's napping and decides to push the door open quietly to avoid the risk of waking him with a knock.

 _Oh, Castle_.

The office is a wreck. The metal sculpture of which he was so proud is nothing but a hardened puddle of slag, its pedestal looking like the base of a melted candle. His prized antique typewriter has been reduced to a heaping pile of components on a side table – it looks like every part that could be disassembled has been. Burn marks mar the ceiling and walls, some looking like impact marks and others like they were briefly alight. Even his books, his beloved books, haven't been spared from the tumult. While they look fine on the shelves, Beckett knows his collection well enough to recognize that it's been scrambled, and some look a little worse for whatever process they went through to en route to their new locations.

Castle is napping, but not intentionally. He's passed out face-first on his desk, where it looks like he simply collapsed when he ran out of energy. Beneath his face and covering the entire surface of the desk are scribbled notes and diagrams. Even from her place near the door, Beckett can see a swirling design on a paper that's hanging over the edge of the desk, with a red check next to it. Planning documents, it seems.

 _Our talk can wait. I'll just lead him to bed and see if I can't get him to stay there._

Beckett's plans to wake him only enough to get him into bed are foiled immediately and disastrously. Her perusal of the mess in Castle's office didn't include the floor. She's only taken her second step toward him when she stumbles, realizing too late that something he did severely warped the floorboards. She catches her balance quickly, but the creak from her misstep rouses Castle. Shooting his head up with a look of alarm, his look flashes from fearful to aggressive almost immediately. Beckett doesn't have time to say a word before she's thrown backwards and pinned against the bookshelf just as securely as she had been when Bracken was assassinated.

 _Put me down!_ She shouts, before she starts to panic. She screamed the words, but heard them only in her head. Whatever he's doing has her muted as well as pinned. Reaching out to do something, anything, to catch his attention, she finds her gamma efforts preempted, too.

 _Rick, what are you doing?_

Castle's on the move, rising to move from behind the desk and looking at her skeptically. He looks foggy, like he's struggling to come fully awake.

 _Eye contact. There's nothing he can do to block that, and then he'll know it's me_.

Even as Beckett's thinking this, though, she's forced to close her eyes by the glaring orange light that suddenly fills her vision. As quickly as it arrived, the light winks out and Beckett's floated gently back to the floor.

"Thought you were him," Castle mumbles as he vigorously rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands while swaying precariously. "Nightmare…" he trails off, looking fearful. "Sorry," he mumbles again before stepping toward the sofa.

 _He's worried that I'm afraid of him after what he just did. Come on, Castle, you know I'm tougher than that._

"Hey," Beckett says loudly and sharply.

Stopping in place and looking up with an expression that makes it clear he expects sharper words or maybe even something worse, Castle wilts a little bit when he sees that Beckett's posture makes it clear that she's not happy with him.

"Do you really think you can just apologize for something like _that_ ," Beckett says sternly, before letting her voice grow soft, "without giving me a hug, too?"

He seems a little flummoxed from the change in direction and he's still having trouble coming fully awake. So, Beckett decides to help him out. She sways across the uneven surface, keeping eye contact except for a quick, pointed look at the ruined floor. "Hello to you, too, Rick," she says while wrapping him tight, trying to show with her physicality that she's here and she's real.

"H'lo," he replies, still not quite there.

 _Hug me, dammit. Come on, Castle, engage!_

"Let's go," Beckett says while releasing her hug. Grabbing his hand, she gives a tug toward the bedroom door, but Castle doesn't budge. "Rick, please. You need some real sleep."

"Not yet," he says stubbornly while shaking his head. "Too much to do."

"Rick, you need to sleep. Your body is run down," she says while watching him adopt a mulish demeanor. "I _know_ it is," she says, tapping on her scar to reinforce the point that he can't hide from her.

"Later," he replies, turning his back to walk back to his desk. As he does, the heaped metal pieces on the side table lift and reassemble, so that his typewriter is whole and functional again by the time he sits down in front of his desk. In the time it takes her to claim a seat on the sofa, it silently explodes into pieces again and reassembles. The process is all the more impressive for the fact that Castle doesn't seem to be paying it any attention, having returned to scouring the scattered papers that litter his desktop.

 _I can see Alexis' point. This could easily seem like a haunted house. I'd ask if your theory about Gammas through history might've been behind Grimm's tales and Salem's witchcraft, but I don't think you're in your head right now, Rick._

"How about this," Beckett suggests, trying to sound reasonable. "Show me some of the new things you can do – excluding twin waterspouts – and then we'll take a break."

 _Not even a flinch at the waterspout reference. I'm not sure I've ever seen you this focused, aside from writing. And maybe not even then._

"I don't need a break," he says, stubbornly. "Look," he says as he extends his left arm out so that it points straight out to his side, in line with his shoulders. Then, without warning, the arm just falls and dangles useless and boneless at his side. "Remember the muscle control we talked about? My arm is asleep, every muscle resting. I don't need to sleep, I just need to rotate the parts of my body that are turned off to get rest."

 _That looks really, really creepy – like a puppet that's just had its strings cut. And it can't be healthy._

"That's not how it works," Beckett objects, trying to keep her voice calm and supportive. "Your mind needs rest, Castle. Your body needs the hormones that only come with real, deep sleep. Or have you figured out how to regulate your biochemistry?" she asks with a perched brow, betting that he's not investigated this aspect of his wellbeing.

"I sleep," he objects, "just don't need as much."

"Right," Beckett agrees sarcastically. "Then it was a planned nap that had you drooling on your papers, not your body collapsing in exhaustion?"

"So I'm a little tired," Castle objects defensively. "There's a lot to do."

 _Not even a glimmer of a tease or innuendo after my 'drooling' set up. It's like you're not even Castle._

"Will you rest on the seventh day?" Beckett challenges, getting angry.

"First Mother, now you," he says curtly as he looks down to his papers, pulling out a pen and starting to scribble on an unused corner of a page torn from a yellow legal pad. "I'm just a man, Beckett, no delusions of anything else. Just a man trying to protect his family," he says quietly while keeping his attention on his notes.

"You're scaring your family," Beckett replies quietly. "You're hurting your family," she whispers.

"I would never…" Castle objects strongly, slamming his pen down and standing quickly, swaying on the spot and looking a dizzy from the sudden movement.

"You just slammed me against the wall, Rick," Beckett fires back, standing. "Pinned me, cut me off, and stopped me from speaking."

"That was an accident," he mumbles.

"And it's the only mistake you'll make? You've run yourself into the ground. Your judgment is impaired and you've left yourself vulnerable to more nightmares," Beckett says with a less confrontational tone, trying to make sure he listens. "Alexis is terrified, Rick," she whispers, holding her heart together as she watches his break. "She wants her father back. And I want my Castle back, too."

 _Just relax, Rick. We don't have to stop, we just have to do this the right way._

"I can't stop, Beckett," he says, shaking his head. "Don't you get it? _He knows_. He could come for us at any time, wearing any face. Right now I couldn't even buy Alexis enough time to escape."

"I get it, Castle," she says with a breaking voice, "I do. That's why we need to be ready, be clear-headed. If he came now, we wouldn't be able to stop him."

"So we should just stop trying?" he asks her with a look of betrayal before sinking back into his chair.

 _You're not in this alone, partner. We can do this, but we need to do it together._

"No, Rick, no," Beckett tries to soothe as she sits down again. "We just need to slow down and do this right. We need to be safe."

"Funny," Castle practically sneers in response, "I don't remember you being the voice of reason when it was _your_ parental trauma in front of us. Going slow didn't seem like such a great idea then."

 _I deserved that. But who knows the costs better than I do?_

"You're right," she says simply, watching surprised confusion flash across Castle's grim visage. "I haven't approached my mom's case the right way," she admits, looking him directly in the eye. "But who's got a better place to give advice here, Rick? And how did we finally track down Bracken? _Together_."

"He's my dad, Beckett," Castle replies while looking sick, as if this was some refutation to Beckett's point.

"You sure about that?" she asks, wondering about his real feelings now that he's finally talking about what happened the night Bracken died.

"Yes," he whispers, broken. "I felt something when I first saw him, the real him. By the time he said something, I knew what was coming. Trust me," he says with a defeated sigh, "I wish I didn't believe him."

"His sins aren't yours, Rick," Beckett tries to comfort, tabling the paternal possibilities until she can check a few things. "You don't owe anything to him, or to others on his behalf."

"How can you say that?" he asks in dismay. "You felt how strong he is – how many people has he killed? And for whom? _He's_ the one who came for Bracken – so he's either protecting your mother's killer, or…"

"Or what?" Beckett asks with a dawning sense of horror.

"Or he was her killer," Castle answers, looking pale.

 _Oh, God. Is that what put you into a tailspin – the thought that your father killed my mother? That fate was far crueler than we thought when it decided how we'd meet?_

"Coonan killed my mother," Beckett answers resolutely, using this fact as shelter from a much more horrible possibility.

"But we know someone else pulled the strings," he answers quietly. "It probably wasn't him – my dad – because he had much different options available to him. He wouldn't have needed Coonan."

"I think," Beckett starts, wondering if now's a good time to get into what she's been thinking about since Bracken's death. Deciding that it might be the best way to get Castle back, she forges ahead. "I think your _dad_ ," she says oddly, still not entirely convinced or the relation, "got involved later, after Bracken left New York. We know the local players – there isn't anyone left in the cast, and no reference to others in the documents. But if Bracken made friends once he was down in DC…"

Castle looks vacant for a moment, then sighs. "Could be," he allows, rifling through the mess of papers on his desk until he finds a scribbled list that he waves at Beckett.

 _So you've been thinking about this, too. Let's see if we're on the same page._ When she reaches out to take the sheet, though, Castle looks reluctant to hand it over.

"Just brainstorming," Castle says lightly as he places the paper on his desk rather than hand it over.

"Seriously?" she replies at his reticence to share his notes. "Now who's the hypocrite?" Beckett asks with a bite of her own. "How many times did you push your way into my mom's case, Castle?" She leaves her hand extended, reinforcing her desire to see what he's been thinking about.

"At least as many times as you tried to kick me out," he answers fiercely, ignoring her request.

"Which was my mistake, Rick," Beckett answers. "Please don't repeat it," she asks earnestly.

 _I didn't want to have to use this card, Castle, but you don't seem to be leaving me any choice._

"Besides," she adds quietly, "I'm involved regardless," she says while using her outstretched hand to tap on her chest. "We're in this together – don't I at least deserve the chance to help? Or don't you think I can?"

"Of course you can," Castle answers with a frustrated huff, collapsing back into his chair and running a hand through his hair. "You're Kate Beckett, you can do anything."

 _Once upon a time, Castle, I actually believed that._

"No, Rick, I can't," she denies, standing and walking around his desk before kneeling next to him and spinning his chair so that he's facing her. "Thinking that way is something that got me into trouble," she confesses, taking his hands into hers. "I _need_ you, Castle. And I think you need me."

Castle goes quiet and seems to sink into himself, leaning forward as if in pain. He tries to pull his hands back, but Beckett's hanging on for dear life.

"My biggest mistake, Rick," she volunteers as a way to try to break through to him, "is that I used mom's case to hide from my feelings for you. But it's too late for you," she says while trying for a note of humor. "I already know you love me, maybe even as much as I love you. We're in this together, partner."

Castle's still quiet, still struggling with something, though Beckett's happy that he's stopped trying to pull away from her. Just when she's wondering about trying to draw him out again, she's startled by the tear that lands on the back of her hand.

"I'm scared, Kate," he confesses in a low whisper. "I don't know how to protect you."

 _And so you try to withhold information from me to keep me safe? That's a bad habit we both need to break._

"You protect me by being my partner," she answers immediately. "The same way you've protected me for years. And as I've protected you," she says as she lifts their hands so that she can kiss each of his in turn before using the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her cheek.

 _Time to force the issue – nothing will help us as much as a full night's sleep._

"Come on, Rick," she says with another tug on his hands as she stands. "You need some rest – an actual full night's sleep. We'll figure things out in the morning. Please come to bed with me."

Despite his fatigue and his teary eyes, some remnant of Castle's personality finally bubbles up and breaks the surface. "Always knew I'd get you to say that," he says with a tired smile.

 _Thank God! Castle's back!_

"I'm so happy you're joking with me again that I won't even twist your ear for that," Beckett says with a raised brow as she tugs him again and wraps him into a tight hug as he stands.

"I'm sure I'll give you another opportunity," he whispers into her hair as his arms come around her and he returns the hug.

"Of course you will," Beckett agrees, shocking herself by how much she's looking forward to it. "Now stop stalling," she says with a little push toward the door to his room, which she instantly regrets as it almost sends him crashing to the floor. Struggling to keep them upright, she guides them both into the bedroom.

"Go wash up," she says with a prod toward the restroom, "and I'll get your pajamas. _No arguments_ ," she says with a raised brow. "A full night's sleep Rick, pjs and all."

Having capitulated to her plan, Castle doesn't argue, just trudges into the bathroom. Beckett hustles to grab some sleep clothes for him, anxious to get back to him and make sure that he's on path for the bed and not trying anything crazy in his dazed state, like shaving.

Reclaiming him with a tug toward the bed, Beckett quickly divests him of his clothes and helps him change.

 _Not even a single comment about being stripped down. Rick, I think you're already asleep_.

But he proves her wrong as he crawls into bed. "You'll stay, right?"

"All night," she says with a nod. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep, then I need to let Alexis know that you're okay, but I'll come right back. You'd be so proud of her, Rick," she says with a bit of pride herself. "Even though she's not comfortable with me, she came to see me at the precinct. We went to my place," she says as she pulls the blankets over him and walks around to the other side of the bed, climbing in and cuddling into his side, "and she told me how worried she was about you. She asked if it was my fault," she continues her story in a low voice, using a hand to stroke Castle's hair. "Do you see how great that is? She didn't assume I'd hurt you. And then she asked me to help. So let me help, Rick," she asks as she continues to run her hand through his hair.

Castle nods, but he's quickly being pulled under. Beckett's soothing voice and the magic of her hand in his hair is unwinding him, breaking down whatever last vestiges of stubbornness are keeping him awake. "Goodnight, babe," she whispers to him as she feels his body relax. "Dream of us."

The relief of finally getting him to slow down proves to be her undoing, too. Her long days at the precinct coupled with the emotional fatigue of today lull her to sleep, tucked securely into Castle's side.

It's almost two hours later when she comes awake, startling herself for a moment until she remembers what happened before she dropped off. Checking quickly to ensure that she hasn't woken Castle, Beckett's content to watch him for several long minutes, barely resisting the urge to stroke his cheek or his hair out of fear that she'd disturb his sleep.

 _Rest, love. Everything will look better in the morning._

Moving carefully, Beckett slips out of bed and out of the room. Forewarned about the office floor, she creeps silently back to the main area of the loft, where Alexis sits on the couch, looking anxious.

"How is he?" Alexis whispers before Beckett can utter a word.

"Sleeping," Beckett replies with a proud smile. "Finally."

Dropping her head into her hands to rub her cheeks and hide her relieved sigh, Alexis takes a deep breath before looking up again. "Will he be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Beckett encourages. "We'll be fine. I started to make some inroads when he was too tired to see straight. I think we'll be able to work through things in the morning, after a good night's sleep."

"Thank you," Alexis whispers while she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hands. "He's lucky to have you," she says quietly while looking down.

 _Darn you, Alexis, I've cried enough today._

Walking over to Castle's daughter, Beckett offers a hand to help her rise from the couch. "Thank you," she whispers thickly as she hugs the young woman briefly but tightly.

"Is your grandmother around?" Beckett asks in as normal a tone of voice as she can manage, stepping away and freeing them both to get themselves under control.

"Not yet, but she told me where to look," Alexis says, happy to jump into a less emotional topic. Gesturing to a box on the floor that Beckett hadn't noticed, Alexis says "That's everything I could find, definitely enough to get started." Then, with a pensive look, she ventures a question. "This isn't just a project to cheer him up, is it? You're looking for something, aren't you?"

 _Another Castle with innate investigative skills._

"You're right," Beckett confirms. "I'm not sure I'll find anything, so let me take a look before we talk about it? I'm hoping that I can convince your father to explain what's going on tomorrow over brunch, and that might help," she says while pointing to the box. "Will you be here?"

"Of course," Alexis says immediately. "Can I do anything?"

"Get some sleep?" Beckett asks, casting a shrewd look at Castle's daughter. "We've all been suffering a bit this week. I think I've convinced him to sleep all night, and I'm going to…," she trails off momentarily due to her embarrassment. Then, remembering Alexis' earlier encouragement, Beckett finishes her thought. "I'm going to stay with him, make sure he actually sleeps. I should actually get back in there, just in case. I wanted to tell you what's going on and grab the box, but I'll just get something to snack on and get back to him."

"I made you a plate," Alexis says with a blush of her own as she walks to the kitchen and pulls a covered plate from the refrigerator. "Would you prefer water or wine?"

With a grateful look, both for Alexis' consideration and her lack of disapproval regarding the sleeping arrangements, Beckett asks for water and then retrieves her bag from the entryway. With her bag and the box Alexis provided, she finds her hands too full to manage her dinner, too. "I've got it," Alexis offers, walking alongside Beckett towards the bedroom.

"Have you seen his office?" Beckett asks with a grimace. At Alexis' head shake, she decides it's best to prepare her in advance. "He's been busy – the place is a mess. We'll get it cleaned up after we've gotten him settled down. Don't worry about what you see, but watch your step."

Alexis' look of curiosity turns to one of dismay as they enter the office. Beckett keeps pace, entering the bedroom and setting the box on the floor next to her side of the bed.

 _My side of Castle's bed. Who would've thought? Besides him, that is._

Alexis places Beckett's dinner on the bedside table while casting a loving look at her father, who finally looks peaceful in the fading light of the evening. Pausing long enough for a quick kiss of thanks to Beckett's cheek, Alexis withdraws, closing the door behind her.

After a quick change into her own sleepwear (stolen from Castle's drawers), Beckett settles against the headboard with the box next to her and the plate beside her, ready for a long night.

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

The door's barely open before Alexis is hugging him hello, prompting a welcome laugh from Jim. "Hello, Alexis," he chuckles.

"Hi, Jim," she replies with a smile. "Welcome back."

"Hey!" he hears from somewhere inside the loft, "Stop hogging my dad!"

"You're one to talk," Alexis mutters in response before ushering Jim inside the loft, where he's the lucky recipient of another hug, this time from his own daughter. He's a little dazed when Beckett just hands him off to Martha, who also greets him with a hug.

"Seems to be the thing to do," Martha says with tongue in cheek, before taking his arm to guide him to the table.

Castle intercepts them on the way, still wiping his hands on a dishtowel as he approaches. Flipping the towel over his shoulder, he grips Jim's hand in a greeting handshake to a soft chorus of "boos" from the ladies, who cast pointed looks. With an eye roll and a shrug, Castle pulls Jim in for a quick hug, muttering "Tough crowd," and prompting a "That's better" from Alexis.

 _You look rough, Rick, and everyone seems a little on edge, a little too desperate to laugh and smile. Katie didn't explain what's going on today, but it looks like it'll be tense._

At first, Jim's expectations prove false. Lunch is a calm affair, filled with gentle conversation, simple fare, and pleasant company. When it draws to an end, though, a sense of apprehension seems to descend upon the group.

"Let's save dessert as an incentive," Castle suggests as the conversation wanes. "Meet everyone in the lounge?" he asks as he rises to clear the table.

Alexis and Martha guide Jim to the couch while Beckett helps Castle deposit the dishes from their dinner into the sink. In a few moments, they rejoin the others with their hands linked. Beckett places a manila folder on the coffee table and sits, casting Castle a nervous look while he takes his place beside her.

 _I'd hoped that this would be a serious meeting about something joyful, but that doesn't seem to be where we're headed. Katie, what are you and Rick up to?_

"I've been a bit of a mess lately," Castle starts with his signature caught-in-the-act look. Alexis releases a huff of nervous laughter, while Martha darts a quick look at Jim. "Kate's helped me get my head straight," he says with a thankful look her way, which gets him a rub on the shoulder in return.

"Nothing you haven't done for me," Beckett interrupts with a knowing smile. "But, before we get started, do you need to, you know…," she says while raising her finger up and moving it in a circular motion.

"Right," Castle agrees. He grows rigid for a moment, getting a faraway look in his eyes before relaxing again with a nod. "Done. One cone of silence, as requested. We should be okay, now."

"Don't Get Smart with me, Castle," Beckett teases.

"Whatever you say, 99," he smiles in return before catching himself and remembering that there are other people there with them. With a blush that deepens when Jim and Alexis smirk about him getting carried away, Castle picks up the narrative again.

"Mother," he says while turning to Martha. "I'm sorry to put you on the spot like this, but there's something we should cover before we get going." While he's been talking, Beckett's removed a picture from the folder and slid it across the tabletop. "Do you recognize this man?"

"Where did you get this?" Martha whispers, tracing the outline of the face in the picture with her forefinger. It's a poor picture – a low-quality enlargement of a low-resolution picture printed in Castle's office – but it's enough for her to recognize.

"So it _is_ him," Castle says quietly, a statement not a question.

"Yes, Richard," she whispers in response, unable to pull her eyes or her finger away from the picture.

"Gram?" Alexis asks, noting the shift in the atmosphere of the room and wondering if Martha is alright.

"Give her a minute, Pumpkin," Castle suggests gently. "This is going to be a difficult conversation, so let's just wait a moment."

"It's alright, Richard," Martha says as she withdraws her hand, though she still looks lost in thought. "Old ghosts. I take it we'll be talking about him in this session of yours?"

"Yes," Castle agrees.

 _I don't know who that is, but this story doesn't sound like it'll be a good one. There's something more going on here – Katie keeps cutting me looks like she's worried about me even though I have no idea who's in the picture._

"Kate, do you want to start things off?" Castle asks. Beckett's nodding before he finishes speaking, but she still takes a moment to get her thoughts in order.

"Senator Bracken didn't commit suicide," she says, starting with a bang. Already, three faces reflect shock, while her partner shows nothing but support. "You know about how we arrested him at the restaurant, right?" she asks rhetorically, giving everyone a chance to re-engage.

"That was marvelous theater, Katherine," Martha praises while getting over her initial shock. "You're a natural!"

"Thanks, Martha," Beckett answers with a self-conscious smile. "But it was all Rick's idea."

"The director helps, of course," Martha says importantly, "but without excellent actors, dear, there can't be a show."

"It _was_ quite a show, and I was out of my mind with nerves," Jim agrees, reaching over to pat his daughter on the knee. "But you knocked their socks off, Katie, right after Rick played the crowd like a piano. You were quite the team."

Noticing her partner's blush, Beckett continues the story after casting him an affectionate smile. "We knew that the Senator might have protection," she pauses briefly to reconnect with her dad, "after what happened at Captain Montgomery's funeral."

That comment wipes the grin right off Jim's face. "You knew there might be a sniper there? And you just walked out the door? I almost died when I heard those shots." _It was like the funeral all over again, wondering if I'd bury another woman I loved._ "Wait a minute," he says as he makes a connection, "that's why that officer – Hastings? – stayed nearby, isn't it? You made sure she was there to assure me you were safe, didn't you?"

Beckett's looking a little emotional, jumbled shame at not having told her father about that aspect of the plan and pride at his insight. Castle steps into the silence. "She's a friend. We wanted to make sure you were protected."

 _As if there wasn't enough going on that day. Thank you, little one, for taking care of your old man. And thank you, Rick, for taking care of her._

"Castle had a shield around us before we left the restaurant," Beckett explains, surprising herself with the fluidity of her description of the Gamma activities that once seemed so foreign. "When the shot came, we were protected," she says while making eye contact with each family member. "We were never in danger – Castle protected us." Alexis does little to hide her look of pride. "Castle?" Beckett asks, handing the narration to him.

"Kate wasn't the sniper's target," Castle says, immediately collecting the attention of everyone in the room. "Someone tried to take out Bracken. When we got him back to the precinct, we told him that we knew he wasn't working alone, gave him the chance to improve his situation by turning on his partner."

 _No! This can't be. It was supposed to finally be over and done!_

"I'm sorry, dad," Beckett says with sorrow as she reaches out for his hand. "I wanted it to be done, too. But there's someone else out there."

"We – well, actually, it was Kate – went toe-to-toe with Bracken. You should've seen her – she was amazing," Castle says with awe, getting a blush from Beckett and indulgent smiles from the others. "I think she almost had Bracken, but he ultimately refused to deal. So, we sent word through official channels that he was willing to turn on his partner."

"What?" Alexis asks. "I thought he didn't take the deal?"

"He didn't," Beckett answers. "We assumed that our communications were being monitored. To provide some incentive, some threat, I called my boss and told her that Bracken was going to take the deal. We were betting that he'd be more willing to talk to us than to try to talk himself out of trouble with his partner."

 _But it didn't work, did it?_

"Since he's dead, I assume that he didn't take your deal and his partner killed him somehow?" Jim asks in an admirably normal voice, though he feels like he's barely hanging on.

"Him and four innocent officers," Castle agrees sadly. "We were there that night, when the electrical surge knocked out power to the precinct," he explains, the gravity and solemnity of his voice capturing everyone's attention. "As soon as it went dark, we knew something was wrong. We went straight for Bracken's cell." Castle pauses a moment to get himself under control, then finds he can't get restarted.

"There was a Gamma inside," Beckett continues the story in same solemn tone. "A remarkably strong one. He trapped us immediately. We were forced to watch as he killed Bracken." Alexis looks terrified, probably more concerned about the danger to her father (and maybe even Beckett) than the demise of the Senator. Martha simply looks shocked, a forgotten hand covering her mouth. Of them all, Jim offers the smallest reaction.

 _Live by the sword, die by the sword._

"But Castle broke free," Beckett says, her note of pride breaking her monotone. "He fought the assassin, nearly electrocuted him and sent him flying across the room before he was pinned again."

"But he did pin me," Castle picks up the story, replacing Beckett's proud tone with one of shame. "I thought we were dead. We'd witnessed him kill Bracken and then I hurt him. I even stole his disguise so we could see his real face."

"Wait, what?" Alexis asks, suddenly thrown by this turn of the story.

Castle and Beckett look at each for a moment before Castle shrugs. Everyone is looking at him expectantly, until a loud crash in the kitchen catches their attention. When they look back from the kitchen, Meredith is sitting where Castle had just been.

"Seriously?" Beckett asks in an annoyed tone while the others sit there is shock. "Of all the people you could choose?"

"Scariest thing I could think of," Meredith shrugs while answering in Castle's voice. "Especially after our last meal together."

"Dad?" Alexis asks slowly, looking a bit freaked out. "That's you?"

An orange light blossoms above Castle, washing away the Meredith illusion and revealing a smirking Castle.

"That's just wrong," Alexis says with a huff, getting a silent but fervent nod of agreement from Martha.

"The assassin wore a black cloud as a mask, until the orange light burned it away," Castle says with a voice grown somber. Reaching out to clasp Martha's hand, he waits until he has her attention before he continues. With his other hand, he points to the photo still sitting on the coffee table. "This is the man."

"No," Martha says sharply as she pulls her hand away. "You're mistaken. This man's far too young to be who you're talking about."

"I'm sorry, Martha," Beckett whispers, reaching back into the folder. "I think this is a more recent picture of him."

"No," Martha repeats as she looks at the second picture, tears running down her cheeks. "No. It can't be. He wouldn't."

"Grams?" Alexis asks, trying to understand Martha's distress. "Dad?" she asks when Martha doesn't respond. "Who's in the picture?"

"My father," Castle answers sadly when Martha doesn't speak, watching Alexis' look of confusion turn into one of horror.

 _Sweet Lord, it can't be. After all this, Rick's father is alive and involved in Jo's murder? What could we possibly have done to deserve so much tragedy?_

Jim's maudlin thoughts are interrupted by his daughter, who clasps his hands securely.

"We're sorry to tell you about this. We thought about keeping it to ourselves," Beckett says and Alexis is already shaking her head, "but you need to know. We don't think this man – Castle's dad – killed mom, but we think he's probably working for whoever did. And he knows about you," she says, turning to Martha and Alexis. "He mentioned you when he had us trapped, told us to go home and protect you. So, you need to know, and we need to make some plans."

"Now I understand why you were scared," Alexis says, far less worried about her grandfather than her father's wellbeing. "You were trying to figure out ways to keep us safe, weren't you?"

"Yes," Castle answers his daughter while still looking at his mother, trying to provide whatever comfort he can. "It hasn't gone very well, but I'm working on it."

"For someone with a healthy ego and such ebullient optimism," Beckett says immediately, noticing his upturned brow at her word choice, "your father's being uncharacteristically humble. I don't want to encourage the behavior we've seen since that night," she says while turning to face Alexis, "but he's made some incredible advances in the last week."

"Graduated from waterspouts to hurricanes?" Alexis says with a tone of admonishment while cutting a look at her dad.

 _Waterspouts? What've you been up to, Rick?_

"Don't look at me," Beckett chides Castle, who's turned to her for support. "She's the one who figured that out, not me. But, Alexis," Beckett says while turning to her again, "you should see the ideas he's come up with. Unbelievable, literally."

"Not enough," Castle answers to redirect the conversation. "I'm going to keep working on it, just at a more reasonable pace."

"And not alone," Beckett interjects with a pointed look.

"And not alone," Castle agrees. "But that brings us to what we need to talk about. We need to discuss three things with the three of you." When no one speaks, Castle turns to Beckett, who stands and starts to move.

They all watch her walk into the office, heading toward the bedroom. "Castle," she calls out to him, "why don't you give them a preview? And if you use Gina, I'm leaving."

Her comments redirecting their attention, the others turn back to Castle but see Lanie instead.

"Super freaky," Alexis says while studying Lanie, getting nods from Martha and Jim.

"No, super freaky would be if I could imitate her voice, too," Castle replies. "We met someone who could do that, but I still haven't figured out how she did it."

"Bad choice, Rick," Beckett says, shaking her head while returning from the office with the box that Alexis provided last night.

"Why?" Castle squeaks, "She's not an ex!"

"She'd damn well better not be," Beckett answers with an eye roll. "It's more of a risk thing. Either you got her dimensions right, in which case I need to wonder about why you know them so accurately," she says while eyeing Castle/Lanie's chest, "or you got her dimensions wrong and she'll wonder how best to dissect you," she finishes by looking at his backside.

"Oh crap," he answers, his look of befuddlement looking strangely out of place on Lanie's face. "It's like the impossible 'does this dress make me look fat' question, isn't it?"

"No, Dad," Alexis laughs. "It's _so_ much worse."

"Great," Castle harrumphs again. "Fine," he capitulates, "just take a picture to memorialize my humiliation."

"Yes, please do, Alexis," Beckett says with an unusual look on her face.

Shrugging while looking at Jim, Alexis pulls out her phone and gasps after opening the photo app. She raises and lowers the phone, alternately looking through it and not. At Jim's curious look, she passes him the phone and he repeats her movements, alternately seeing Lanie with his eyes or Castle through the camera.

"I agree with Alexis," Jim says while raising and lowering her phone. "Super freaky."

Laughing at the ridiculous sound of those words coming from her father, Beckett sits, opens the box, and extracts the photos sitting in a small group at the top.

"Castle discovered that the illusion trick doesn't fool cameras," Beckett says by way of explanation. "That's probably the reason why the power to the precinct was cut and the electrical system was fried before Bracken was killed. But there are so many cameras these days," she explains while fanning her selected photos across the coffee table, "it's difficult to avoid them all. When Alexis and I were talking, I started to wonder about that, wonder about whether Castle's father has been as absent as we've thought."

Her preface causes the others to look down at the assorted photos. "He's been careful, but he's been around. We didn't find any clear pictures of him," she says as she points out blurry profiles, often obscured with a ball cap or more conventional disguises, "but I'm pretty sure we've found several pictures of him. Enough to know that his appearanes weren't isolated."

"So, wait," Alexis asks. "This means he's been around, but he looked like someone else?"

"He must've known Mother would recognize him," Castle answers in a contemplative voice. "We didn't find many early pictures of him, but we don't have as many photos to work with. As time passed, I think he was less concerned about being recognized in the background of a photo. It's also pretty hard to stay out of photos these days."

"Nice projection, Mr. Page Six," Beckett teases, getting an eye roll in response.

"So, the first thing: if you're worried about someone around you or if you feel like you're being watched, take a picture," Beckett instructs. "Rick's messing around with an app that will automatically scan the photos he takes, looking for this man," Beckett says while pointing at the second photo they showed Martha. "If it works, we'll let you know."

"So he _did_ visit," Martha says is a soft whisper, lost in the photographs. "I always wondered why he didn't come back. I don't know if it's better or worse that he was here and didn't say anything."

"He probably wasn't supposed to be here," Beckett hypothesizes in an effort to make Martha feel better. "From what you described, he disappeared while working for the military. Whether he still is or not, he probably wasn't supposed to come back after they made his records disappear."

"When we met him," Castle joins in, "he said something about this being the second time he let me live. I don't remember meeting him before, so I've been wondering what that meant. My best guess is that he wasn't supposed to have a child. If so, he wouldn't have told anyone about us, and would've been careful to not draw any additional attention to us."

"' _You knew the cost of drawing attention_ ,'" Beckett quotes from that awful night when Bracken died.

"Exactly," Castle replies in a somber tone.

"Maybe this is a good thing," Martha decides, thinking out loud while lost in her memories, "despite whatever he did later in his life. Now I can wonder about every kind soul who helped us when we were alone, every stranger with a kind smile or even a consoling word for the unmarried whore and her bastard child," Martha says with uncharacteristic rancor that offers a glimpse into her life as a single mother. "Those were terribly difficult times, and maybe he made them a little easier, in whatever disguised way he could."

 _Our generation was not kind to unwed mothers, nor to working women. Katie was right about you – try to hide it as you might, there's a strong survivor hiding as a dramatic diva._

She seems surprised to see her son standing next to her, offering her a hand. But she gratefully accepts, hiding her tears in his shoulder as he holds her tight. Whispering something in his ear several minutes later, Martha kisses Castle on the cheek and reclaims her seat.

"What's the second thing we need to discuss?" Martha asks briskly, clearly interested in moving to a new topic.

"The second thing," Beckett answers quickly in an effort to provide Martha some respite, "is a way of making sure we know how to recognize each other. If others can change their appearance and we don't have a camera handy, we need a way of ensuring that we're not duped by an imposter. We've thought of two things, but we're open to suggestions. Orally, we need a safe word to confirm our identities. Despite a suggestion of 'Mollywobbles,'" she says while rolling her eyes at Castle, "we've decided to use 'Tiger.' If you need to prove yourself to someone else here, say that. And once we're safe, we'll come up with a new word."

"I prefer Dad's idea," Alexis smirks, "but I can remember 'tiger.' This doesn't happen to have anything to do with the case Dad mentioned, does it?"

"Maybe," Castle smiles devilishly. "It's where this all started, in a way."

"Not really," Beckett objects. "If that was the criterion, then we'd go with 'Tisdale.'"

 _Not sure what that means, but from the look you two are giving each other, it's another something that's made you forget about the rest of us._

Blushing after her father's smiling throat-clearing recaptured her attention, Beckett continues. "Physically, we'll use the victory gesture," she says while holding her hand up towards the group with pointer and middle finger extended. Just do it casually," she demonstrates, moving to scratch her side surreptitiously with only those fingers extended.

"We should blink frequently," Martha interjects, her first engagement since their discussion of Castle's father. "Actors have to practice to make sure they don't show their discomfort at assuming a role. I'd imagine an imposter would be anxious to make sure nothing seems out of the ordinary. So, if we must verify ourselves, something meant to draw attention might also be useful."

"That's a good point," Beckett praises while thinking about it. "Thank you, Martha." When no other suggestions are forthcoming, she turns to Castle.

"Our last topic is the panic switch," Castle says while standing and extracting business cards from his wallet. "Keep these with you," he says as he passes them out.

 _Anthony Gjerde, Esquire_ , Jim reads. _Never heard of him_.

"Anthony," Castle says dramatically, "is an attorney who specializes in defrauding auto insurance companies," he says with a laugh. "If there's a collision scam or mysterious damage done by a parking garage, the odds are pretty good that Anthony is the one suing the drivers, attendants, and insurers. Needless to say, he's _not_ our attorney. For our purposes, he has only one redeeming asset – if you reverse the last four digits of his phone number, you'll reach our attorney. It's a dedicated line that will start the process of getting you secured and safe."

"Is this the guy who tried to mess with the Ferrari?" Alexis asks shrewdly.

"I'm not always forgiving," Castle agrees with a nod and a grim smile. "Anyway, Alexis already has a copy, but we have instructions for you," he says to Martha and Jim. "We all have a meeting this afternoon with our real attorney to walk you through the plans and make sure everything is ready."

"Rick," Jim objects, a little confused. "I don't need an attorney, I _am_ an attorney."

"Dad," Beckett interjects gently, "this is the escape plan. If anything goes seriously wrong, or gets unexpectedly dangerous, this is the way out. There's money, IDs, and refuges. But you need to be ready – if we disappear or if we call and tell you to run, please run."

"I can't just run away, Bug," Jim objects again, clearer this time. "I'm not going to run from you again."

Reaching out to clasp his hand again, Beckett looks at him in a way that he hasn't seen in years. _Oh, how I've missed this_. "Dad," she warbles, "if anything happens, we'll do everything we can to join you. But I need to know that you have a path to safety and that you'll be there to help Martha and Alexis."

 _Clever, Bug. Giving me a new goal in case something happens to you, some new reason to hang on? I know what that means._

"You're going after him, aren't you?" Jim asks with a pointed look. "If not Rick's dad, then the person behind this – the Senator's partner."

"We haven't really talked about that yet," Castle confesses in a low tone. "Kate and I need to talk and get on the same page. At the very least, we need to be ready to defend ourselves. But the best way to do that might be to bring it all down."

"That sounds exceptionally foolish," Jim answers immediately.

"And needlessly dangerous," Martha adds.

"And probably inevitable," Alexis adds, shocking them all. "What? Maybe not right away, but we all know that they'll end up poking into this. At least one won't be able to resist digging around, and the other will go along to help and protect. It's who they are."

 _I wish you weren't right, Alexis. But maybe you'll be the voice of reason._

"Pumpkin…," Castle starts to talk, before he's cut off.

"Am I wrong?" Alexis asks fiercely. "Tell me honestly, right now, what you think will happen."

"We haven't talked about it yet," Castle says to appease his daughter. When her look doesn't change, he tries again. "You might be right. But if we do go ahead," he says while turning to lock eyes with Beckett in case he's misspeaking, "we'll do it slowly and carefully."

"Richard, I still think this is a mistake," Martha steps in when it looks like Alexis has said what's on her mind. "But I think most things you do are a mistake. And if Katherine is there to keep an eye on you, I'll feel at least a little bit easier."

"Dad?" Beckett asks, noting that he's the only one who hasn't weighed in. "Dad, talk to me?"

"What should I say, Katie?" Jim replies with some frustration. "I thought you were wasting your life, your potential, by looking for Jo's killer. But it's brought you here," he says with a general wave. "You have a family again. You seem happy. So, maybe I'm wrong, maybe lightning can strike twice." _Especially if you can control lightning, I guess._ "But from my experience, all I can say is this: appreciate what you have, because it can be gone like _that_ ," he says with a snap of his fingers.

"I do, dad," Beckett answers with a surprisingly calm voice. "I do appreciate what I have," she says while reaching out to Castle. "It's like Rick said – we've got to figure out what we're going to do, and then we'll do it together."

"That seems naïve," Alexis says doubtfully. Answering their confused looks, Alexis waves between Beckett and her father. "If I'd asked you yesterday if you were together, you would've said yes. But you weren't – you were working crazy hours at the precinct and he was pushing himself into the ground by screwing with the weather or some damn thing."

 _Wait a minute, I recognize that look from when Katie was younger. I don't know why no one seems to see it, or what it means._

"We worked it out," Castle soothes his daughter. "Kate helped me get things under control as soon as she got here."

"But she's not always here, Dad," Alexis objects. _There's the look again – she's leading them by the nose!_ "The murderers in the city aren't going to slow down just because the two of you need a break or want to pursue a different case. She's going to need to leave, and then it'll be the same mess all over again."

"Then maybe…," Beckett says slowly while tugging on his hand to get Castle's attention, "then maybe I shouldn't leave."

"Kate?" Castle asks in a voice brimming with hope that he's interpreted her comment the right way and fear that he hasn't.

 _Well played, Alexis!_

"If that's not overstepping," Beckett says shyly, "or intruding."

"Oh, Katherine!" Martha exclaims emotionally, standing and moving quickly to pull Beckett up into a hug. "Of course it's not overstepping. You will be a _wonderful_ addition to this home."

Beckett's so shocked at this reception and the engulfing hug from Martha that she hasn't noticed that Alexis has approached to offer a hug as well.

"If you can keep him safe and happy," Alexis says, looking both a little shy and a little proud at forcing the conversation, "then I'd like you to stay. For real."

 _I never thought I'd be so happy to see Katie cry._

"The majority has spoken," Castle harrumphs from his seat, "I guess I don't need to cast a vote."

"Oh, please," Alexis says flatly from the depths of her embrace with Beckett. "You cast your vote two years ago. You've been trying to get Kate to move back into the loft since she left after finding her new apartment."

 _So, it's 'Kate' now, is it?_

"Guilty as charged," Castle answers with a gleeful grin while he stands and opens his arms to Beckett, who gratefully steps forward to cuddle into his chest. "I'm home," Beckett says quietly and happily as his arms close around her.

* * *

A/N2: A longer chapter this week, and it didn't even get to the break point I was hoping to reach. Maybe that's for the best – we ended on a happy note here, and what I had in mind was a little more ominous. I'd thought about making this chapter a little heavier on the angst, but it just didn't feel right. So, there are problems here, but hope, too.

The next chapter will likely be a little late – we're off on vacation tomorrow to celebrate the end of exams and surviving last year (missing the incoming blizzard is a nice little bonus, too). Maybe I'll get to steal some time for writing during the flights, otherwise I'll dive in as soon as we return. Now, stop reading this A/N and go find Fan Girl, which just wrapped up yesterday.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Castle**

"You sure you're up for this?" Castle asks as he casts a sidelong look at Beckett, still surprised that she seems so confident.

"I'm ready," she says. They both recognize the hesitancy in her voice and lock eyes again.

 _My brave detective. Always willing to face a challenge head-on._

"We can wait," Castle offers. "There's no need to dive in. It's like everything else we're doing – slow and careful is the way to go."

"Subject to external constraints," Beckett murmurs, looking less confident. "You know we can't wait, Castle. Not after last night's call."

"No," Castle agrees with a sigh. "If we're going to control our own destinies, we need to do something."

"So we go ahead," Beckett agrees, tapping her bag. "Besides, Gates is on board. I'm not sure what would happen if we backed out now."

"Good of her," Castle confesses. "I'm still a little surprised that she's been so helpful."

 _And without any snide comments or belittling remarks. She actually smiled at me once!_

"You're telling me?" Beckett huffs with a laugh. "You're practically BFFs these days. Any friendlier and I'll start to get jealous."

"You know about us?" Castle teases. "And here I thought we've been so careful," he says dramatically. "It was the earrings, wasn't it? The ones I've set aside for next Valentine's Day."

"I'm sure they match the cufflinks I bought for Jonas," Beckett says with an eye roll, before they look at each other and start laughing. Esposito casts them a cross look from his desk, but the look they get from Ryan is decidedly gooey.

The sound of heels catches their attention and causes them to settle down quickly. They're still looking mirthful when Captain Gates approaches, earning an odd look from her.

"Detective Beckett," Gates says formally, though her lips turn up at the corners. "With no case pending, your team might as well take a lunch break. I'm heading out for lunch myself and then a meeting. I expect to see you here or hear that you're in the field when I return by 3:00."

"Yes, sir," Beckett answers just as formally. Then, with a slow nod, Gates gives them one last look. Raising her eyes to the ceiling and shaking her head as she departs, she whispers "Good luck" and makes her departure.

 _I still don't trust her. There must be cameras around. Which is fine, as long as I get a copy of the video._

"Ready?" Beckett asks.

"Ready," Castle confirms.

With a deep breath and a nod, Beckett stands at her desk and collects her pocketbook. Castle's move to join her draws the attention of the boys.

"Are we allowed to go to lunch with you today?" Esposito asks sarcastically after making sure there's no one who might overhear.

"You are," Beckett says graciously, "but I think you'll be happier if you stay here."

 _They'd kill us if they weren't around for this. It's too bad, though – I'd like to see their reactions. Again._

Esposito and Ryan cast her inquisitive looks when they notice Castle nodding in agreement. Intrigued, they look ready to ask more questions when Castle and Beckett both turn to walk through the bullpen. As they take their roundabout path to the elevator, Beckett pulls an unmarked white envelope from her pocketbook, sliding it onto Karpowski's desk as they pass. Karpowski notices the delivery and looks up with a curious expression, but Beckett and Castle don't break stride until they reach the elevator.

Karpowski's still just looking at the envelope, her radar apparently tweaked by Beckett's subtle delivery. As the elevator arrives, Castle and Beckett step aboard, turning to watch as Karpowski slowly and discreetly slides the envelope into her lap, where she opens it and pulls out the single sheet of paper.

 _I don't think I've ever seen Roz smile that widely._

With a cheeky wave, Beckett gives Karpowski her own radiant smile as the elevator doors close.

"You sure you want to come back after lunch?" Castle asks from her side. "'Cause if you don't, I have an idea about how we can spend the afternoon."

"A _delightful_ idea, I'm sure," Beckett practically purrs in response. "Unfortunately, I suspect that Gates' comment about being back by 3:00 was meant to prevent exactly what you have in mind."

"But that's still _hours_ away," Castle says smoothly, "more than enough time."

"Rick," Beckett answers a little breathily as the elevator shudders to a halt on the ground floor, "we just gave them all the evidence they need. We don't need to come back from 'lunch' disheveled and glowing to drive the point home. Now, come on," she says as she weaves her fingers with his and tugs on his arm to get them moving, "you've got to feed me so that I have enough energy to investigate your idea after we get home tonight."

 _You little devil. You know that calling the loft 'home' is a sure way to settle me down. I'm still so damn ecstatic about our new arrangement that thinking about it'll distract me from just about everything._

"Lead the way, Detective," Castle says with a pleased grin. And why not? His normally reticent, private partner is holding his hand, right here in the precinct, while she talks about going home to his loft later tonight.

 _It's good to be the king._

But just when it appeared that life couldn't get better, fate bestows one last gift. As Beckett tugs him through the door of the precinct by the hand, their old acquaintance Tom Demming passes them while heading in the opposite direction. He's so distracted by the sight of their linked hands that he misses the door and rebounds heavily from the frame. He's still rubbing his forehead as Beckett and Castle disappear amongst the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

"What were you saying about not needing to drive the point home?" Castle chortles as he directs them toward the diner. Clearly, today is a chocolate milkshake kind of day, given how well things have gone so far.

"That was just coincidence," Beckett says with an eye roll and a shrug. "And don't even pretend that you didn't enjoy that scene immensely."

"You're right," he replies with a nod and a devilish look. "I've waited _years_ for something like that. But I should return the favor. Let's go make out in front of Black Pawn."

"Food, Castle," Beckett directs sternly, though her tone can't hide the sparkle in her eyes. _There might be something to that suggestion. I'll have to think about how to arrange something like that…_

Five minutes later they're sitting across from each other, bouncing on red, faux-leather banquettes at a table for two. With the antics that are likely happening at the precinct right now, there's no point in pretending they aren't together, so they're holding hands across the chipped formica tabletop, both giddy at the audacity of their actions.

 _Take that, Page Six. Who'd've thought that the playboy author would get such an illicit thrill from being so bold as to hold hands in public?_

"Any update from Paula?" Beckett asks, prompting Castle to check his phone.

"Nothing yet," he confirms as he slips the phone back into his jacket and grasps both of her hands with both of his. "She said when she called last night that the _Ledger_ might sit on it for a day, fearful of guessing wrong and ticking off the NYPD. But if it's not online today, they'll run something about us by tomorrow."

"Are you going to wear black?" Beckett asks with a lifted brow. When Castle signals his confusion, she explains. "You know, a day of mourning for your chances at making the eligible bachelor list again?"

 _I'm still a bachelor until we have our 'sooner' conversation. But I guess I should wait until we've lived together for a little while before I start pushing on that front._

"I think I'll survive," Castle says while lifting her hands towards his lips for a kiss until the trilling of Beckett's phone interrupts from the tabletop.

"I might not," Beckett says somewhat urgently. "Crap, crap, crap! It's Lanie!" she says while pulling one of her hands away to point at her still-ringing phone. "I forgot to call her. She's going to kill me!" she says in a more panicked voice than Castle would've expected. Looking at him, she quickly points back to the phone. "You answer it!"

 _And get between you and Lanie. Nooooooooooo, thank you._

Releasing her hand so that he can hold both of his up to ward her off, Castle leans back into his seat. "No way, Beckett. Your friend, your phone."

Beckett leans back in her seat, too, looking at the phone warily. "I thought you had my back," she whines, still not looking away from the phone.

"Sure," Castle answers quickly. "For murderous elected officials, carnivorous beasts, and the worst homicidal maniacs NYC can throw at us. But that's _Lanie_ ," he says resolutely, shaking his head.

Beckett's about to retort when her phone suddenly goes silent. The partners eye it cautiously, treating it like a twitchy land-mine. Beckett actually squeaks when the waitress drops their menus on the table unexpectedly, prompting a blush. Castle, about to tease her about her nerves of steel, winces as the phone in his breast pocket starts to ring.

"Your friend, your phone," Beckett reminds him with a smug smile.

 _The things I do for you, partner._

"Hi Lanie," Castle says brightly while wincing as if waiting for his phone to explode. "I was just about to call you."

 _Oh, come on. I take the bullet for you and I still get the chastising look for telling a little fib?_

"Sure you were, Castle," Lanie humphs. "And what were you going to say?"

"Kate and I wanted to see if you'd join us for lunch," Castle says while looking at Beckett for confirmation, getting an encouraging nod in return. "We, ah, did something at the precinct that you might want to hear about."

"No kidding," Lanie replies flatly. "So, where's Kate? Ducking my call?"

"She's in the washroom," Castle answers, rolling his eyes at Beckett's disapproving look. "If you hold on I can hand my phone over, or you can meet us at the diner by Kate's bank."

"You _do not move_ until I get there," Lanie practically growls. "Tell Kate to order my usual. I'll be there in ten," she says just before the connection abruptly ends.

"So, Kate," Castle asks conversationally. "How far do you think we could run in ten minutes?"

* * *

 **Lanie Parish**

 _For a cop and her partner, these two have, like, zero situational awareness._

Lanie takes a moment to marvel at the teenagers who have apparently decided to inhabit the bodies of her friends, holding hands and damn near giggling at the diner's table. It's so ridiculously cute that she almost decides to leave them alone. Almost.

" _So_ ," she says loudly after sneaking up on them, just for the joy of watching them whip their hands apart and look embarrassed. Except they don't. Beckett and Castle simply turn to Lanie with matching smiles. Then, slowly, Castle disengages to stand, grabbing a nearby chair and holding it politely for Lanie so that she can join the end of their small table.

"Hi Lanie," Beckett says with a smile. "Glad you could join us."

"Glad I could… Kate Beckett, don't you _dare_ try to sit there and act like you didn't just kick a hornet's nest," Lanie scoffs. _That's your partner's style, not yours_.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Castle says with such an obvious sense of false wonder that even Beckett rolls her eyes.

"This!" Lanie says abruptly, thrusting her phone out at Beckett.

"They've got a PDF circulating already," Beckett says nonchalantly to Castle, gently handing the phone back to Lanie.

 _Who is this woman? What happened to my ridiculously independent and painfully private friend?_

" _Already_?!" Lanie repeats in disbelief. "You knew about this? And you're just sitting here? That's a C _hange of Address_ form. For you. With his address."

"Our address," Castle corrects quietly with a sweet smile.

"'Our address'…," Lanie repeats, trailing off, rubbing her forehead. Looking back and forth between the partners, she's rapidly getting tired of waiting for the punchline to this joke. But instead of a "gotcha!" she's treated to the sight of Beckett putting her hand back on the table, where Castle's joins it in a gentle clasp.

 _This is either the most elaborate joke these two have pulled off or they are suddenly much more comfortable than I could've hoped. Good lord, the sex must be incredible_ , she thinks, coming up with a plausible explanation.

"So, this is real," she says while pointing to her phone again.

"Yes, it is," Beckett answers with a small smile.

"And you let the precinct know on purpose?" Lanie asks.

"Yes," Beckett answers again, still grinning as she looks over at a nodding Castle.

"And you didn't tell me?" Lanie follows up, failing to hide her hurt feelings.

"I'm sorry, Lanie," Beckett says quietly, breaking her clasp with Castle and reaching for her friend instead. "I meant to call last night. I kept thinking about how I'd tell you. But then I got distracted," Beckett trails off, looking down with a blush.

 _I understand, honey. But there is_ no way _I'm going to let you off that easily. Not after waiting this long!_

"' _Just a little bit'_ distracted, I'm sure," Lanie quotes from their first conversation about Beckett getting together with Castle, using a snarky tone and a raised brow as she shifts her look from Beckett to Castle and back. Beckett's blushing furiously, a reaction not missed by her partner, who looks like he's filing this away for later inquiries. "Must've been some kind of distraction for you to have still forgotten until lunch today."

 _Hah! Now Castle's blushing, too. This is almost enough fun to make up for having been left out._ And _I get a free lunch!_ she thinks as the waitress delivers their meals, including chocolate milkshakes all around.

"Milkshakes?" Lanie asks in surprise.

"We're celebrating," Beckett says, blush fading but smile still in place.

"And replacing lost calories," Castle smirks from the other side of the table. "Ow!" he complains, reaching down to rub his shin. "Seriously, I'm going to start buying you soft-toed boots," he grumbles to Beckett.

"Or you could just try behaving yourself," Beckett mutters back, trying to hide her smile.

"Yeah, 'cause that's likely," Castle grins in reply.

 _I've met Kate's boyfriends before, but I can't remember her ever being this playful, or ever being so invested in someone that she forgets that I'm sitting right here!_

"Well, aren't you two just the cutest thing," Lanie teases, though she means it. "You still owe me, though. I _can't believe_ that I had to hear about this from Javi."

"Better him than the _Ledger_ ," Beckett answers with a huff before taking a bite of salad. Castle jumps in to resolve Lanie's look of confusion when Beckett can't reply with her mouth full.

"We heard from Paula last night," he explains. "The _Ledger_ called her for confirmation on the blurb they're planning to run about us." Castle pauses a moment, looking a little dreamy, but then refocuses himself to finish his explanation. "So, we thought we'd go public on our own terms."

"How'd the _Ledger_ find out?" Lanie asks while looking at Beckett and wondering why she's not more upset.

"Not sure," Castle admits after nibbling on a french fry. "Probably Meredith – I don't know if Kate told you, but we had an interesting run-in with her when she last tried to visit," he says with a chuckle. Head spinning toward Beckett, a surprised Lanie sees a look of satisfaction from her friend.

 _Kate, you are in so much trouble. I nurse this thing along for_ _years_ _and I have to interrogate you for the littlest details?_

"Seriously?" Lanie asks, clearly annoyed. "You had a visit from _Meredith_ and I didn't hear anything about it?"

"It wasn't a big deal," Beckett says, trying to calm her friend. "We were having a family dinner when she showed up unexpectedly," she explains with a shrug. "Martha and dad steer the conversation into safe waters – safe from her, at least – Castle tells her she has to stay at a hotel, she belts Castle, and then she leaves for Paris the next morning."

" _Family" dinner? Meredith hit Castle? What the…_

"You forgot the best part," Castle interrupts Lanie's thoughts while aiming a wicked look at Beckett. Intrigued, Lanie turns to look at her friend again.

"Oh, right," Beckett says airily, as if remembering some trifling matter. "I did tell Meredith that Castle and I would be married, as soon as the people who are important to us get used to the idea."

"There's something for you that the people back in the precinct haven't heard about," Castle chuckles.

 _Shut the front, back, side, garage, and outhouse doors. Seriously!?_

"You talked about marriage?" Lanie asks in a stunned voice, watching Beckett nod. "In front of Castle's ex-wife, while sitting at dinner with your family." Still nodding. "You've moved in together and the whole precinct knows about it." More nodding. "And the newspaper's going to out the two of you tomorrow." Nodding and smiles.

"Oh, _Kate_!" Lanie says while she stands, grabbing her friend in a fierce hug and letting her tears fall.

"And _you!_ " Lanie gasps when she finally lets go of Beckett, turning toward Castle to wrap him in a hug, too. "You'd damn well better take good care of my friend."

"You know I will," Castle says gently, smiling as he hugs Lanie and feels Beckett rubbing his back.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"See?" Castle brags as they walk back to the precinct after having strolled to OCME with Lanie, " _Totally_ protected you from Lanie. No worries, partner."

 _You actually weren't bad, as much as I'd like to give you trouble._

Rolling her eyes and giving him a nice little hip-check, Beckett can't help the smile that blossoms across her cheeks. "My hero," she croons like the heroine from a 1940's B-movie. "Still, I feel bad about not telling her about the move before we let Karpowski break the news."

"So invite her over," Castle suggests. "I'll go to the Haunt or bug the guys. Or you could get together at your old place. I obviously want you around all the time, but I'm working hard not to smother you here, Beckett."

"And I appreciate it, Rick," Beckett answers honestly. _I'm still surprised that I'm not more freaked out by the move, but I'm sure I'm going to need my space. As much as I love the loft, sometimes it's just a little too frenetic._

"So," Castle says as they approach the precinct, "how are we going to handle this?"

"I guess that depends on what happens when we arrive," Beckett answers contemplatively. "Nothing overt or inappropriate, but no denials, either. Maybe even a heated look or wink, if we're feeling crazy," she says as she gives him a quick shove, flattening him against the building they were walking beside so she can give him a quick kiss.

A passing police cruiser slows to give them three short taps on the horn, reminding them that they're near the precinct and can probably expect the verbal equivalent from their colleagues upon their return. Beckett sends them off with a wave while Castle merely watches with a stunned smile.

The entry to the precinct is actually pretty low-key. They've just called the elevator when Beckett notices something amiss. "Come on," she whispers, slinking over to the stairwell unnoticed.

"I think Murphy called in our arrival," she whispers an explanation while they're in the stairwell, stealthily making their way up to the Homicide floor. "They're probably gathering around the elevator upstairs to surprise us."

 _Wait a minute – I recognize that look very well. I've seen it often, and I suspect it's the one you wore just before liberating that police horse…_

"What do you have in mind, Castle?" Beckett asks with some trepidation. "Or should I even ask?"

"You okay with turning the surprise on them?" he asks, looking like he's bursting at the seams to play a prank on someone.

 _If the things that I let you talk me into didn't usually turn out so well, I wouldn't even think about it._

"Will I regret it?" Beckett asks with a raised brow.

"Probably not for long," Castle replies with a smirk, ducking out of the stairwell on the second floor for a moment before darting back in, grabbing her hand and tugging her up the stairs. "We need to hurry!" he whispers playfully as they dart up the stairs.

On the third floor, he reverses whatever he did to Esposito on the day of the curse, pressing the elevator call button from afar to catch the ascending elevator. The partners wait on the stairs, huddled and hiding, while they watch the doors open to reveal an empty elevator car. "Perfect," Castle whispers in satisfaction. As he's standing right behind Beckett, this happy exclamation is nearly murmured into her ear, sending a delicious thrill right through her.

 _Maybe we do have enough time…_

They watch the elevator doors close and Beckett wonders what's next, but her curiosity is answered quickly. A lurching thud indicates that 'someone' triggered the 'elevator stop' button, causing the elevator car to cease its ascent between the third and fourth floors. Turning to look at her partner, she sees that he's focusing hard on the elevator, clearly up to something.

A rattle from the direction of the elevator catches her attention. It sounds like the elevator car got knocked sideways within the shaft. After a few moments there's another loud bang from the elevator shaft, followed shortly by another right afterwards. After that, the rattle isn't quite as loud, but it's more regular, starting a slow cadence of regular bangs. It almost sounds like…

"Castle!" Beckett whispers urgently, blushing furiously. "People are going to think we're…"

"Exactly," Castle says with a grin, still focused on the direction of the elevator. "Now come on, help me sneak upstairs," he says while holding his hand out to her. "I need to stay focused on the elevator. Don't let me fall."

 _That'd be a fun incident report to write. 'Please describe the circumstances of the accident'? Well, let's see. My partner was using magic to simulate a sex act as a prank on our colleagues when he tripped and fell down the stairs…_

With a sigh that's half laughter and half exasperation, Beckett takes Castle's hand and slowly leads him up the stairs. She's not sure what to think of this little bit of fun until they peek out of the stairwell on the fourth floor. There isn't a single person in the breakroom or at their desks. In fact, at least one phone is ringing unanswered as every officer on the floor is clustered around the closed elevator doors, listening raptly to the show.

 _Nice to know that law enforcement in the 12_ _th_ _precinct grinds to a halt on the occasion of me getting some._

"This is all your fault," Beckett complains in a low voice. "I work here for years and years with no problems, no misbehavior. We start dating and my coworkers assume I'm getting freaky in the elevator!"

"Don't blame me!" Castle laughs in a low voice. "It's not my fault you're gorgeous. People just assume that someone who looks as good as you do knows how to enjoy herself."

"Not at work!" Beckett nearly growls in exasperation.

"We'll see about that," Castle promises with a wicked glare, prompting a huff of exasperation.

 _Maybe we will. But not today!_

A bit annoyed by the rampant and ongoing voyeurism of her colleagues, Beckett leads Castle carefully to her desk, though she needn't have bothered – it looks like they could've had a marching band escort them to their seats and no one would've noticed. Once they're seated, Beckett boots up her laptop and Castle takes out his phone, both of them ready to act as if nothing is going on. They wait for a few minutes to see if anyone notices them, growing surprised and a little disturbed that nothing seems to break the attention of the group.

"I can't believe they're still going at it," someone marvels from the cluster at the elevator.

With a devilish look, Castle gives Beckett a saucy wink then turns his attention back to the show. There's a noticeable increase in the volume of the clanging from the elevator shaft, along with an increase in the frequency of the sounds.

"Good lord," they hear someone say from the near the elevator. _Swanson – he'll get his_ , Beckett thinks, taking notes. "He's going to kill her. She's a slight little thing, she can't take that."

"No way," Karpowski answers. "I don't think there's anything Castle can give 'er that she can't take." _Thanks, Roz!_

"I don't know," says another female voice, unrecognized by Beckett and all the more mortifying as a result. "They've been waiting _a long, long_ time, and you know what they say about Castle."

 _Nice smirk, partner. Don't pretend that you aren't pleased by some aspects of your reputation._

"Don't worry about it," someone says loudly to speak over the increasing clamor. "That's gotta be Beckett's doing." _Espo – he's a dead man walking_. "I always knew she'd be a volca – oh, no," Esposito trails off while paling, having turned to give Ryan a high-five and found himself pinned from across the bullpen by a look that Beckett usually saves for interrogations.

Just to mess with them, Castle produces three last, resounding crashes from the elevator shaft, even though more people are turning to see whatever shut Esposito up. One by one, the eavesdroppers at the elevator turn to find Beckett and Castle sitting placidly at her desk.

"Something interesting over there?" Beckett asks calmly from her desk as the elevator dings and the doors open to reveal a vacant car. "Or is this some lunch party? Castle, did we get an invitation?"

"No," Castle shrugs. "They probably sent it to the wrong address."

* * *

 **Castle**

"You ready to head home, partner?" Beckett asks a little more loudly than necessary as she returns from Gates' office, making sure that her question is picked up by others in the bullpen.

"Sure," Castle replies with a happy smile, standing and stretching while casting a look over at the boys. They've been models of silent efficiency all afternoon, working harder than ever to ensure that they don't do anything else to rile Beckett.

 _They haven't even come over to see about settling up for the bet like I promised. It'll be interesting to see how long it'll take for Mr. Ex-Special Forces to face that challenge!_

"We'd better take the stairs," she says, again with more volume than necessary. Stepping up beside Castle, she hooks her arm through his elbow and pats his bicep. "I heard the elevator was making funny noises earlier today."

They manage to keep their composure as they depart, even though every face they see is blushing and resolutely avoiding eye contact. Thank goodness it was a homicide-free day, although there were more than a few people who probably would've appreciated a reason to flee the precinct this afternoon.

Murphy, the unwitting scapegoat of 'the elevator escapade' (as Beckett overheard it described in the washroom), gives them an odd look as they depart, though he smiles when Castle offers cheery wishes for the night.

 _Lighten up, Murph. That's the most fun I've had in the precinct in at least a week._

The weather is even more beautiful than it was at lunch, so they decide to walk, enjoying the company. Strolling down the avenue with arms linked, they look ridiculously content.

"Anything interesting from the Captain?" Castle asks as they walk, wondering about what Beckett heard before they left the precinct.

"One PP seems okay with us," she answers, giving his arm a little squeeze. "I'm sure Bob's presence helped. They wouldn't do anything right now anyway – they wouldn't want to risk spoiling the good press from the Bracken arrest. They could quietly split us up later, but Gates doesn't think we have anything to worry about," she says happily. "Plus, they were happy we let them know in advance so their PR people are ready for tomorrow. It sounds like Paula's been a big help."

"Fantastic," Castle says earnestly, showing that he was still a little worried about this. After a quick turn to kiss her cheek, he asks the other question that's bothering him. "How about internal complaints?"

"Two so far," Beckett answers sadly. "Gates isn't worried about them, but she has to record them."

"Let me guess – both from men, both complaining that you're sleeping your way to the top," Castle says with tired disgust.

"She can't disclose the complaints, but yeah," Beckett agrees resignedly. "We had a general conversation about the challenges that Gates has faced during her career. She warned me about this kind of reaction."

"I'm sorry, Kate," Castle replies. "And I'm afraid it'll probably get worse after the _Ledger_ runs its story."

 _I never thought I'd be this upset about media coverage._

They walk in silence for a few minutes, each thinking about what'll likely happen tomorrow.

"How do you do it, Castle?" Beckett asks quietly, jostling him from his own thoughts. "You probably get complaints like this all the time, right?"

"I do," Castle confirms, running a hand through his hair and buying time to think about how to reply. "With every book I get a bunch of letters like that – how it's complete garbage, how I must be blackmailing someone or sleeping with someone to get published, about how I can't even pick a good ghost-writer. It's vile, effluvial tripe that's best ignored."

"But how?" Beckett asks curiously, more interested in his situation than her own. "How do you ignore the hate?"

 _I just do, or at least I pretend I do_. Not terribly big on introspection, Castle takes some time to think about her question so he can give her an honest answer. "I've never really thought about it," Castle shrugs, still thinking. "And the honest answer is that I don't ignore it as well as I'd like. Dark nights, bad days – sometimes I just can't shake the terrifying thought that they might be right, that I don't deserve the success I've found. So I talk and I joke to push it back." He feels her squeeze his arm, thanking him for making this a real discussion and providing some strength to continue. "I guess it might be why I'm so interested in the opinions of people I know, why I try so hard to stay on good terms with everyone. If the people who actually know me think I'm not too bad, then it's easier to ignore the trolls."

Looking around to assess her options and the pedestrian traffic, Beckett pulls Castle into an exterior alcove of the building next to them, wrapping him in a tight hug. "You're a good man, Richard Castle," she whispers into his ear.

 _I'm trying, Kate. I'm really trying._

"Working on it, for you," he answers as he returns the hug. "But this isn't about me," he corrects as he holds her tight. "It's just envy and jealousy. We both know that you're the best detective in the precinct and that you've earned every opportunity you've received many times over. People will think whatever they think, but the people we care about, _they_ know what's really going on."

Stealing another kiss, Beckett sighs happily before pushing them towards the curb, where she throws her hand out to call for a cab. "Dinner at home?" she asks with a wink, getting them back to thinking along the lines discussed before lunch and immediately shifting their moods.

Once they've claimed a cab, Castle pulls out his phone and winces. "We're outed," he says, clicking on the link that Paula sent. Watching his face as he reads the article, Beckett's treated to a range of expressions that start with wariness and turn toward curious before finally landing on mildly impressed.

"Here," he says as he passes her the phone. "I think Paula handled them pretty well. It's not bad," he says while sounding impressed.

' _Not bad' for having your private life spilled all over the internet, I guess. Now we'll see how comfortable with this you really are_.

"You're right," Beckett replies, sounding shockingly unaffected. "I expected snarky 'how long can this last,' or an 'it's about time' angle. I'm actually _not_ terrified about what my relatives will do when they see it," she says while huffing a small chuckle.

 _What?_

"Really?" Castle asks, wondering if Beckett's really okay with this.

"Rick, we talked about this," Beckett says indulgently. "I don't like it, but I can live with it. We took control, we'll give then a little story, and we'll be so steadfastly uncontroversial that they'll have to look somewhere else for a story. We waited for _years_ to get here," she reminds him while patting his leg, "I can put up with 15 _minutes_ of fame."

"Okay," Castle answers, sounding both impressed and a little dubious. "First decision: with this out, there'll probably be a correspondent or two outside the building. Do you want to avoid them or run the gauntlet?"

"No hiding, partner," Beckett manages to say with a smile. "The sooner they see us, the sooner they'll get tired of us."

Minutes later, they pull to a stop on Broome Street. Castle's already paid the driver, so they alight from the cab immediately upon arrival. A few freelancers linger nearby, hoping for pictures or an anecdote they can sell. As discussed in the car, Castle and Beckett don't engage, but they don't run, either. Acting as they would if they were alone, the partners approach the door while holding hands. Vigilant Eduardo is there to hold the door open for them, ushering them inside like a worried parent.

"Welcome, Detective Beckett," he says with a smile, trying to welcome her warmly in case the crowd outside caused upset.

 _Oh, Eduardo, my Beckett's made of stronger stuff than that._

"Please, Eduardo," Beckett says with her most winning smile, "it's Kate."

Eduardo looks a little stunned from the full blast of Beckett charm at close range. _Trust me, buddy, I know how you feel._ The partners are just about to enter the elevator when he shakes enough of his stupor to lurch forward with an envelope in hand.

"A delivery for you," he says apologetically to Castle, taking some comfort in the knowing grin he gets in response. "Thanks, Eduardo," Castle says happily as Beckett pulls him into the car, anxious to ascend to the loft.

" _So_ ," Beckett says with a flirty grin as the elevator starts to rise. She turns and grasps the handrail as if testing its strength while she purrs. "Do I need to worry about any amorous activities in _this_ elevator?"

 _No, no, no! Just when things were going so well!_

Surprised by a lack of physical or oral response, Beckett turns and feels her heart sink at what she sees. "Rick, what's wrong? What's in the envelope?"

 _Answer her. You said you'd do this together._

"It's from my dad," Castle whispers, still holding the note he pulled out of the envelope. "It says 'Your boat, Thursday night. Give Jonas the night off.'"

* * *

A/N2: So, ah, here's the thing. I had to tend to work for a bit and the characters mutinied while I was away. Apologies for any offended sensibilities. Sorry, too, for the delay in getting this chapter up. Not only did work go crazy, but the weather messed with travel plans and we managed yet another ER visit (at least we made it to February before visiting the hospital this year). But, things look to be settling down at work and at home, so I'm hoping to pick up the pace.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

" _It's from my dad," Castle whispers, still holding the note he pulled out of the envelope. "It says 'Your boat, Thursday night. Give Jonas the night off.'"_

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Hey babe," she says after they've stepped into the loft, unclipping her holster from her belt. "Will you please put this in the safe?"

 _You've been bugging me for ages about 'handling my weapon.' Enjoy the opportunity, Rick, I need a minute._

Still lost in thoughts about the disturbing letter he'd just opened, Castle mutely accepts Beckett's sidearm and starts to trudge towards his office, not even turning at the sounds from the stairs.

Alexis, acutely attuned to her father's moods and still a little nervous about his reactions after the death of Senator Bracken, slows her pace, timing her arrival so that she meets Beckett at the bottom of the stairs just as her father disappears into his office.

"Kate?" she asks nervously. "Is everything okay?"

"We just got some bad news," Beckett starts to explain when Alexis cuts in.

"The reporters downstairs?" she asks shyly. "I thought you'd be okay with that," she says as she lets her head fall.

 _Oh, Alexis. Life really has taught you to expect the worst from the women in your father's life, hasn't it?_

"Hey," Beckett says gently, reaching out for Alexis' hand. "I'm right where I want to be and don't care who knows. I'm _happy_ to be here. Our bad news is something different, something that put an end to what had been a wonderful day. Unexpected and bizarre, but still wonderful."

"So, what happened?" Alexis asks, still looking down, but at their linked hands rather than the floor.

With a frustrated sigh, Beckett's bothered that she has to repeat recent history. "Alexis, I hate to do this again, but can I talk with your dad about this, first? I don't want to steal him away or seem like I'm shutting you out, but we _just_ found out as we entered the building. I want to work through this with Castle before he starts getting tied in knots about it."

"So it's about his dad," Alexis guesses. "And you're going to help him, right?"

"It's one of the reasons I'm here," Beckett agrees quietly. _But not the most important reason, which you might actually be starting to believe._

"Maybe we can talk over dinner?" Alexis asks quietly, finally looking up into Beckett's eyes.

"I hope so," Beckett says optimistically, but careful not to overpromise. _I'm not going to set myself up to disappoint you._ "Your dad can be a little stubborn, but I promise I'll do whatever I can to get him to talk about this as soon as possible."

"'A little stubborn,"" Alexis quotes back with a quiet huff and shake of her head. Releasing Beckett's hand, she takes a step back. "I'll make dinner, you go talk with dad. Good luck."

"Thank you, Alexis," Beckett says earnestly, marveling again at the possibility of building a stronger relationship with the young woman. "Who knows? Maybe we'll be done in time to help."

Alexis looks doubtful as she heads to the kitchen, but there's something in her posture that makes Beckett think she's still hopeful. Spinning on her heel, she's anxious to spend time with Castle to figure out how they'll address this new disaster.

Entering the office provides a stark visual reminder of one potential way this conversation can go off the rails. It's not quite the disaster it was after Castle went off the deep end trying to become a master Gamma in a matter of days, but somehow it seems worse. The books are reshelved and the typewriter reassembled, but the painters haven't yet been in to address the scorch marks on the walls and ceiling. The floor is a mess, with the old, warped floorboards torn up but the radiant-heat system only half installed.

The melted metal sculpture, in particular, catches her attention. Rather than throw it out, Castle's taken to changing it regularly, often in ways designed to catch her attention. It's been a copy of roses he brought her, an impressionistic swirl, and even an (unfortunate) attempt at a globe. _He seems to be staying away from any busts, but I'm sure he's practicing._ Right now, though, it looks like a flash-frozen explosion, angry lines radiating out from a small central core. She's hoping that it's something she didn't notice this morning, rather than a recent adjustment.

A little surprised that Castle's not in the office, Beckett carefully tip-toes across the wrecked floor, figuring that he's changing clothes or maybe even taking a shower in an attempt to wash away the implications of his father's note.

 _My plan won't quite work in the shower_ , Beckett thinks, preparing herself for their conversation, _but maybe a gentle, loving time to connect would be a better way to start?_

But Castle isn't changing clothes or showering. He's sitting on the end of the bed, staring at note clamped in his hand but clearly looking past it, lost in thought.

 _Back to Plan A. Look at me, Castle, not that damned note._

"Despite how we spent our first few years together, I don't like fighting with you, Rick," Beckett starts, voice crisp and posture just a note below challenging, "especially now. So let's get this over with rather than avoiding the issue for the next five days."

Her abrupt introduction has certainly caught his attention. He's looking up at her, brow knit and mouth opening to reply. Beckett doesn't give him the chance.

"I'm going with you," she avows, brimming with determination and certainty. "We don't know what he has in mind for this meeting. You can't protect me – I'm at risk whether I'm there or not, and I can't help if I'm not there."

"Kate…," Castle tries to mollify, but Beckett's not having any of it.

"If he just wants to talk, I can go below, or up to the bridge. I won't eavesdrop or try to interfere with a private discussion between you and your father," she promises. "But I need to be there. You helped me with my dad, Rick," she says with heartrending candor, "now I need to help you with yours."

"I was…," Castle tries to interject, but Beckett knows all too well what happens when Castle starts working his (non-Gamma) magic with words and isn't going to let him derail this conversation before she's spoken her mind. _No way, Castle. You might know me, but I know you, too. I'm not going to let you distract or delay with beautiful turns of phrase._

"I might not have figured out how to be a Gamma like you have," Beckett admits while Castle starts to look irritated, "but let's not forget who actually has training for meetings like this. And I'm not just talking about the weapon and hand-to-hand skills, which I know might not be much use with him, but I've built a damn fine reputation for undercover work and interrogations."

Castle's still looking at her, but instead of trying to speak, he's starting to show signs that she knows well after years of working together. _Don't you even try to deflect this with humor. That'd be a good way to see an up-close reminder of that hand-to-hand training I mentioned._

"I'm serious, Castle. _I'm going_ ," she repeats fiercely. "Besides, you'll need me," Beckett rails, thinking of yet another argument in her favor. "We're going to tell our family what's going on and make proper preparations. You know Alexis won't let you go alone, so it's no good trying to slip away from me."

Mentioning their family seems to have foreclosed humor as a reaction, leaving Castle sitting on the bed, looking up at Beckett with an open stare. Beckett's appalled to realize that she's panting slightly, her passion for her arguments having ramped up more than expected. She tries to even out her breathing, lest her shortness of breath here in the bedroom give Castle some easy distracting comment with which he can try to slip away from this discussion.

Castle lets a few moments pass before he succeeds in speaking. "Anything else?" he asks quietly, waiting to see if he's going to be allowed his rebuttal.

Beckett has only one argument left, and she makes it quietly to emphasize its importance, to make them both lean in to recognize it. "You promised we'd do this together."

In response, Castle takes a deep breath. After dropping the note, Castle rubs his thighs as a way to release some pent-up energy and tension, then reaches out for Beckett's hand. Wary that he's trying to anchor her in place while he makes his case for going alone, she's still unwilling to deny them a physical link to each other. _But you don't get to pull me onto the bed. That's for making up after a fight, not a distraction before_.

"I've only got one thing to say, Kate," Castle starts quietly, looking at their hands before raising his eyes to meet hers.

 _Which means I'll only have to ignore you once, Rick._

"I need you with me," he says quietly but with as much passion as she'd shown in her own arguments.

"But, Rick," Beckett starts to object, before her brain catches up with her mouth. "Wait, _what?_ "

There's no denying his smirk now, though his tone is still serious. "I could wish things were different, but we need to do this together," he says while giving her hand a squeeze. Beckett's trying to decide between pulling him up for a hug or knocking him back onto the bed when he proves his identity by failing to keep his mouth shut. "Mind you, the other stuff you said is complete nonsense, but you were right about that."

 _Way to ruin the moment, Rick._

A perched brow is enough to prompt an explanation from her partner. "First, I want you there even if my dad just wants to talk. There's no eavesdropping about it. He has a problem with that? _Tough_ ," Castle says roughly. "You're part of my life and I want you there."

"Anything else?" Beckett repeats his question while trying to contain a happy smile.

"Well, we're going to ignore your self-deprecating comments about your Gamma skills and look at the strategic potential instead, Ms. I-have-training-in-this-and-you-don't," Castle answers with a teasing tone and a perched brow of his own.

"Okay, Mr. I'm-a-writer-and-know-how-this-should-go," Beckett replies in kind. "What's the great strategic potential that I've overlooked?"

Beckett's confused by Castle's far-away look, until she remembers the conversation they had with their family to explain what happened with Bracken. _Another cone of silence? You're really enjoying playing secret agent._

"Aside from our family, who've we told about Gamma abilities?" Castle asks, before answering his own question. "Just the boys, right?"

"That's it, aside from Jonas," Beckett agrees. "But Gates is thinking along these lines. I'm not sure if she's going to press for details or if she prefers to have some plausible deniability, but she knows something's going on after your daring rescue operation and Bracken's demise."

"Gates," Castle says with a sigh. "She might be a problem," he says, surprising Beckett. "We might have to think about her separately, but we're okay for now as long as she's focused on me."

"Okay for what?" Beckett asks with some exasperation, prompting another smile from Castle.

"Okay for you to be our secret weapon," he answers with a mischievous smile. At Beckett's blank look, he explains. "The boys, Jonas – they think all the Gamma stuff has been all me, right? They don't know that you're a Gamma, too."

 _I'm a secret weapon? A hidden gun isn't any good if it doesn't have bullets._

"It _has_ been all you," Beckett answers with sad frustration, but Castle's already disagreeing.

"What about Cali?" Castle encourages. "You certainly did something there! So what if you're having some troubles? You haven't sunk any boats yet, so you're still ahead of me."

"What about the guy who came for Diane?" Beckett presses her case. "You did all the work there. _Plus_ ," she adds, thinking of something else, "the blue mist after you destroyed his nexus – the boys saw that go to me as well as you."

Beckett knows something's up from Castle's embarrassed reaction. _What did you do?_ she thinks, giving him a piercing stare.

"They, ah…," Castle trails off. "They think that was a consequence of us spending time together," he says, looking sheepish. "I didn't say it!" he protests in response to her look. "Espo guessed that what was going on and I just didn't correct him."

 _Why is it that women are the ones accused of gossiping? You three are ridiculous. But even if they don't know about me, I'm still no secret weapon._

"Rick, you broke free to fight your dad. I sat there and tried to _physically_ push myself free," she says with a tone of disgust. "I didn't even try any Gamma tricks. And what could I do? Make a ball of light? Slap his face? That's not going to cut it in a fight."

"How have you fought every battle since you became a cop, Kate?" Castle asks rhetorically. "Physically. Cut yourself some slack. You just need a little time to adjust."

"But we don't have any time!" Beckett growls in frustration. She looks highly annoyed at Castle's laugh.

"Look at us," Castle says, still chuckling. "How many hours ago were we just through that door, with me getting anxious about the lack of time and you as the calm voice of reason? We have the time we have," Castle says far more easily than he did last time they talked about this. "I trust you, Kate. I trust that you'll be able to do what you need to do when the time comes. It's that simple."

"You trust me too much," Beckett grouses, but she can't deny that his faith in her is starting to undermine what was looking to be a good breakdown.

"I trust you," he says simply. "We'll keep practicing, but I have no doubt that you'll be a kick-ass Gamma, too. And no one, including my father, has any idea about what you can do."

 _How am I supposed to defend against absolute faith?_ Awed anew by his unwavering belief in her, Beckett crawls into his lap, straddling him at the end of the bed. What was meant to be a recognition of his faith instead turns into a long string of kisses that succeeds all too well in distracting them from everything else.

"So," Castle pants as he pulls away just enough to take a heaving breath. "Does it count as a fight if we were both arguing the same point?"

"That's a good question," Beckett answers, trying to adopt a pensive look despite her flushed cheeks and dilated eyes. "I'm not sure, but I know how we can find out," she says as she dives for the buttons on Castle's shirt. "We'll have to see if this feels like make-up sex."

 _He must've Gamma'd me,_ Beckett thinks moments later, somehow gloriously naked in the blink of an eye. And from the disparate locations around the room her articles of clothing have landed, a tornado was almost certainly involved. But she produces some contradictory evidence almost immediately, divesting Castle of his clothing just as quickly and doing an even more impressive job of adorning the floor and nearby furniture with yet more clothing.

She's just pinned Castle to the bed when tentative knocking at the door has them looking at each other in alarm rather than besotted infatuation.

"Hold on a minute!" Castle calls out as Beckett dives for cover under the blankets. Castle's stretching to reach a shirt when he overbalances and tumbles to the floor, just as Alexis pushes the door open.

"Dad?" she calls out from the office. Finally remembering his options, Castle raises a hand and a pillow sails from the bed to land in his lap to provide some meager cover as he shouts out "Wait!"

"Kate?" Alexis asks as her head appears in the doorway. "Oh!" she cries out in alarm, whipping a hand up to cover her eyes and blushing enough that her face is redder than her hair.

"Alexis, just give us a moment," Beckett says while also blushing. But when Beckett's about to look down to hide behind her hair, she catches Alexis cocking her head, knitted brows barely visible over the cover of Alexis' hand.

"If you guys are talking, I can't hear you," Alexis says in confusion.

 _Oh, crap. The cone of silence. That's why she didn't wait._

"I was worried something happened," Alexis babbles in her discomfort. "I couldn't hear you guys talking, and you're usually… much louder when you're… trying to be quiet."

 _Oh, Sweet Jesus._

Turning to Castle, she sees him looking every bit as embarrassed and shocked as she feels. _Not sure how else you're supposed to look while sitting cross-legged on the floor and wearing only a pillow and a hastily-donned dress shirt. Or when you find out that your private time hasn't been so private!_

"Kate, Alexis, this is all my fault," Castle confesses while looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. "I forgot that I muted us. How embarrassing," he says. "I'm really, really sorry."

"I just came to make sure you were okay and tell you that dinner's ready when you are," Alexis says, head just barely visible through the doorframe and eyes still covered. But just as she's ready to depart, her expression changes even around the blinder of her hand.

 _Oh, there's a look I know all too well from your father. How frightening that it's hereditary._

"Don't let this little scene dissuade you, Dad," Alexis offers from the doorway. "Had I known it was a possibility, I would've requested the mute option for most of the other times you two have been in here."

Beckett assumes that Alexis hightailed it back to the kitchen after that parting shot, but she can't visually confirm with her face buried in her hands.

* * *

 **Castle**

"Pier 32, please," Castle tells the cabbie as they climb inside and get situated in the back.

They're both tense, anxious about the safety of their family and nervous about the upcoming encounter. At least they have some experience at charging into dangerous situations together, and this is even a little better than usual since they've had several days to prepare.

"I'm glad Alexis is so enamored of your father," Castle offers softly, thinking about the tense evening that Jim, Martha, and Alexis have ahead of them.

 _And I'm glad you seem so willing to blend our family._

Beckett grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze before holding it tight. "Thanks for finding them such a good place, Rick," she says quietly. "It'll be a terrible wait for them, but at least they're safe and close to home."

Castle nods, thinking of the apartment he was able to sub-let from a friend. There's no record of the transaction, and the building has a number of entry points that are out of the public eye. Their blended family can at least wait in tense comfort. If tonight goes well, he or Beckett will call on a burner cell and give them the all clear to return home. But if they haven't been contacted by 7:00 AM tomorrow morning, they have much more elaborate directions about how to sneak out of the city and to a place of relative safety.

"With any luck, we'll see them soon," Castle says distractedly, head turned toward the window. Beckett, looking concerned about Castle, releases his hand in favor of his upper arm. After a quick kiss to his cheek, she rests her head on his shoulder. "Come here, Castle."

 _I can't imagine a time where a request like that won't capture my attention._

"Bet you never thought you'd need to encourage me to talk, did you?" Castle says with a small chuckle as he pulls Beckett into his side. "I'm sorry, my mind just keeps running off."

"No problem, babe," Beckett whispers into his neck, enjoying this last chance to connect before meeting his father. "I'm a little scattered right now, too. But focusing on what matters," she says as she gives him a tight squeeze, "helps me."

"Love you," he murmurs into her hair. They're the last words Castle speaks before they arrive at the Pier, but he shows his attentiveness to Beckett in other ways.

"Just think," Beckett says as she slides out of the cab, using Castle's outstretched hand to stand, "the last time I got out of a cab here was on our first night together. _There's_ a memory to hold tightly tonight."

"You say that as if memories from that night aren't _always_ on mind," Castle says with a small grin while reaching for her hand. "Shall I shuffle to the boat to help us on our trip down memory lane?"

"No, thank you," Beckett replies with an eye roll. "But maybe after our meeting, you could reenact your scene with the boxer-briefs and the handcuffs?"

" _There's_ the incentive I need to get through this meeting!" he answers with quiet exuberance, managing to pull a smile from Beckett despite the dire circumstances of their visit.

"You ready to meet your dad?" Beckett asks as they start their walk toward Slip 47.

"As ready as I can be, I guess," Castle says quietly. "I can honestly say that in the thousands of scenarios I considered, none of them were close to this," he chuffs. "Thank you for being here with me."

"Of course, Rick," Beckett says while squeezing his hand. "No place I'd rather be."

 _No place other than meeting a homicidal magician in a remote location?_

At Castle's look of disbelief, Beckett adjusts her vow. "Well, a beach in Bali might be preferred, as long as you were there. But we're going to do this first, then we'll think of fantasy destinations."

 _Sounds suspiciously like honeymoon planning._

"Deal," Castle answers quickly and happily. "Now come on, Secret Weapon, let's get to our meeting. Just remember – don't blow your cover unless it's life or death."

"We'll be fine, Castle," Beckett answers with an indulgent roll of her eyes. "I think he just wants to meet his son."

* * *

 **Beckett**

As Slip 47 comes into view, they see that their guest has arrived before them and is sitting on the transom, legs dangling to obscure the name of the _Tuggedly Handsome_. While not dressed in black today, his denim pants, white shirt, brown leather jacket, and ball cap would serve him well as urban camouflage. A quick squint and hand signal from Castle reveals that their visitor has no weapons on his person, not that he'd need them.

The older man hops onto the dock upon their approach, standing with the grace and posture of someone who knows how to move quickly and effectively when necessary. From the quirk of his head, it looks like he knows he was just scanned.

"Hi," Castle says in a forced voice, a hard edge undergirding words that might look polite in writing. "I'm Rick Castle." With only a small flinch, he extends his hand toward the older man.

With a cocked brow, the older man extends his hand. "Jackson," he says in reply as they shake. He endures the quick glare of an orange light placidly, offering a quick indulgent smile. "Just checking," Castle says without apology.

 _Not that I'm sure many people would want to imitate you._

"This is my partner, Kate Beckett," Castle says with that same undercurrent of assertiveness bordering on aggressiveness.

"You armed, Kate?" Jackson asks with a lilt in his voice as he shakes her hand.

 _You're kidding, right? Not that it matters. So why are you asking? Trying to make it clear to your son that you're not checking me out?_

"Usually," Beckett replies tersely, offering nothing else as a conversational gambit.

"We going to just talk here on the dock or can we actually go aboard?" Jackson asks in a voice that would usually sound playfully but in this tense atmosphere just seems out of place.

"Your meeting," Castle says with a shrug and a gesture towards the boat, "your preference. You just want to sit on the boat or should I take us out?"

"Let's get away from prying eyes," Jackson suggests.

 _You mean "witnesses"?_ Beckett thinks, while a quick look at Castle confirms that he's thinking the same thing.

"Besides," Jackson says drily, "you'll feel better out in the running water, right?"

 _How in the hell does he know about that?!_

"God, this is tedious," Castle sighs as he uncleats the mooring lines. "I get it. You know my family. You know about my boat. And you know my strengths and weaknesses. Is that what this talk is about?" Castle asks, surprising both Jackson and Beckett with his candor. "Are you here just to make ominous references about how well you know me?" he asks as he moves to another cleat. "I'm also afraid of spiders. And hamsters, too. Anything else you'd like to know?"

"I'm not here for that, Richard," Jackson says calmly. _Interesting that he goes for "Richard" even though Castle introduced himself as Rick. He sounds like Martha._

"I thought it would make sense for us to talk. But not here," Jackson continues with a nod upward towards the captain's chair. With an eye roll, Castle climbs the ladder, fires up the engine, and soon has them chugging out toward Governor's Island.

 _Fine, so you know about Castle's – our – element. But if the secret's already out, then there's no reason we can't play to that strength._

Apparently thinking the same thing, Castle pilots them toward the confluence of the East and Hudson Rivers while Beckett sets out some chairs on the deck so that they can handle whatever discussion Jackson wants to have with some small shred of comfort. It bothers her immensely that his smirk upon seeing her set out the third chair looks so much like Castle's. Beckett leaves him alone, instead opting to join Castle on the flying bridge. Jackson simply takes a chair and waits patiently.

Castle cuts the engines and extends the anchors about 15 minutes later. After preceding her down the ladder, he extends a supporting hand to Beckett and leads her to a chair before seating himself. While he's lowering himself into the chair, he casts her a look that she recognizes all too well.

 _Going to cause trouble already? What do you have planned, partner?_

"So," Castle starts the conversation with a bang, "was Joseph yours, too, or just Jonas?"

 _What!? When did you figure this out?_

Jackson doesn't try to deny Castle's accusation. Instead, he just shrugs and turns to Beckett. "He's not bad. I can see why you keep him around."

"He's better than you can imagine," Beckett replies tersely, trying to keep her temper in check.

"Maybe," Jackson allows, "though I think I've known his potential longer than you have."

 _*You're* going to give me trouble about how long it took for Castle and I to get together? Oh, hell no._

"Peeping at him through windows or passing him on the street hardly counts as knowing him," Beckett fires back, before flinching at the realization that not only is she dominating the conversation she'd volunteered to stay out of, she's not exactly easing the tension of the meeting.

 _Sorry, Rick_ , she thinks while giving him a quick look of apology _._ The phantom cheek rub she hadn't hoped to feel helps her ratchet down by a degree.

"I haven't been around much, that's true," Jackson answers, apparently unruffled, "which is probably the reason you're still alive," he says while turning his head to look at Castle. "Besides, I've been able to help now and again."

"The CIA?" Castle asks, receiving a nod. "The poker guys still can't believe I got in there. Over the years, I've started to understand how unlikely that arrangement should have been. When else?" Castle asks, unable to deny the siren's call of a connection to a father, despite whatever qualities that man might possess.

 _Be careful, Rick. Don't set yourself up for disappointment._

" _Casino Royale_ at the Library," Jackson says quietly. With brows furrowed, Beckett turns to Castle for an explanation but is alarmed by the stunned look on his face. She reaches out to grasp his hand, using physicality rather than any Gamma tricks to remind him of her support. Restored by her touch, Castle looks up at Jackson and whispers "That was you?"

"I had no idea then what you'd go on to become," Jackson offers quietly. "I've enjoyed your books. Not sure how you managed to write when you were with Meredith," he says with some disgust, "but the Storm books were fantastic. I had my doubts about Nikki," he continues with extra gravity to his voice while cutting an assessing look at Beckett, "but I've been surprised so far."

 _Yeah, I get it. That's your second shot at me. We're well-versed in subtext, Jackson, and I'll give your opinion about how long it took for us to get here exactly as much weight as it deserves._

"And mother?" Castle asks tersely, seemingly having dropped into a shorthand with this man that he's known only briefly and under terrible circumstances.

"I helped when I could," Jackson replies, looking almost wistful. "Visiting was dangerous, both for my job and for the risk of leading others to you," he explains. "I came around less as you got older, especially when she moved on," he says while looking contemplative. "I looked after her as I could, but I was often on assignment, including when her husband ran off. You can let go of any thoughts of finding him, by the way," Jackson offers conversationally. "I didn't track him down until he'd spent everything he stole, but I can guarantee," he says with an almost feral look, "that no one will see him again."

 _How sweet. Bonding over the murder of Castle's step-father._

Castle looks bothered, but not by hearing of the demise of the con-man who treated Martha so poorly. "You should have said goodbye," Castle says quietly. "It hurt her, your disappearance. Raising me alone wasn't easy for her, especially after she finally gave up hope for your help."

"I couldn't," Jackson says quietly. "That would've just drawn a big target on both of you."

"Bullshit," Castle says roughly, firing up. Standing so that he can pace around the small confines of the deck, he spins on his father. "You're a fucking magician and you're going to sit there and tell me you couldn't conjure up a post-dated letter about how you're thinking of her before heading off on a dangerous assignment or something?" Castle rails.

 _I could try to calm you down, Rick, but I think you need to let this out. And I think he deserves to hear it._

"You took the coward's way out," he spits at his father. "You can try to salve your guilt by telling yourself that you helped where you could or looked in on occasion, but she didn't know any of that until we told her just recently. However many people you've killed, however many assignments you've completed or terrors you've faced – none of that changes the fact that you couldn't even write a Dear Jane letter to a young, frightened, ostracized actress."

" _You're_ going to lecture me about mistakes?" Jackson answers in a low, dangerous voice. Beckett tenses in preparation for some kind of attack, but Castle's reaction is to laugh.

"What," Castle says around a chuckle, "you think I don't recognize my mistakes? Good Lord, man, _everyone_ knows about my mistakes," he says while throwing his arms into the air to emphasize his point. "But show me one – just one – example of a mistake I haven't owned," Castle challenges. "It might take a while, and I might bumble on the way," he says while casting an apologetic glance at Beckett, "but I get there. So, yeah, _dad_ , I'm going to lecture you about how you treated my mother."

"Well, then," Jackson says in low growl as he reaches into his pocket and both Castle and Beckett tense, "it's a good thing I don't need to stay here and listen to this shit." Pulling out his keys, he pushes a button on the fob. _Somehow, I don't think he was unlocking a car door._

With that accomplished, Jackson returns his keys to his pocket and takes a moment to compose himself.

"I wanted to get to know you a bit," he says in a more neutral voice. "I wanted you to know that anything that happens after this isn't personal," he says with a light huff that makes them wonder if that desire has changed after Castle decided to have a go at him.

"The calm before the storm?" Castle asks with a hint of sarcasm as he lowers himself back into his chair.

"Probably," Jackson agrees with a nod. "I suspect we'll see each other soon under far less… _cordial_ circumstances," he says with another huff.

"We've got Bracken's partner worried," Castle says with a grim, satisfied smile. "That's a start."

"Don't flatter yourself," Jackson dismisses. "You're actually going to die because of my mistake," he says simply, a statement of fact rather than an apology. "That, and friends who are just as stubborn as you are."

 _What do you mean, "friends"? Who else is at risk?!_

"Who?" Castle asks, obviously sharing Beckett's concern.

"That jackass Sydney Perlmutter," Jackson growls, and Beckett's suddenly, inconveniently struck by the consternation shared by father and son. "He refused to classify Bracken as a suicide. There's no way that with the length of the belts and the distance involved that he could've generated enough force to snap his own neck. I did him the favor of making it quick," Jackson grouses, "and it bit me on the ass."

Castle looks like he's inordinately pleased that Perlmutter's annoyed someone else for a change. _Don't smile too much, Rick – the consequence of the ME's report is that Bracken's partner sounds like he's going to clean house._

"And your Captain," Jackson says while turning to Beckett. "With Perlmutter's report in hand, she's refusing to close the case on Bracken. There's no active investigation, but the threat of it just hangs there with an open file. It's too reminiscent of your mother's case, so steps are going to be taken to manage the situation."

 _Another open file, another link back to mom. Where does it end?_

Castle's about to retort when he cocks his head. Pausing herself, Beckett knows what's caught his attention – the sound of another boat approaching.

"So, we going to do this here and now?" Castle asks in a surprisingly calm voice. _All things considered, though, he might be right – this might be the best chance for us. At the confluence, family tucked away, no innocent bystanders like there was in precinct._

"Don't be so anxious, son," Jackson says with a wry quirk of the lips. "Who knows? Maybe he'll think better of it," he says with a shrug, showing his apparent indifference to his assignment. "But I'll promise you this: you'll see me coming. I owe you that much. They don't know what you are," he says while looking at his son, "either by ability or relation. As long as we keep it that way, none of this should blow back to Alexis. Just make sure to tell her that when you disappear, she needs to _leave it alone_." These last three words seem to reverberate, and he's driven the point home by staring at Beckett during his delivery.

 _So, Bracken's curse can extend to the next generation? With Alexis cast in my role, the young girl obsessed with the murder of her parent?_

The approaching boat is within 100 yards, its engine providing the only noise while Castle thinks about Jackson's promises. He's still lost in thought when the other boat pulls alongside the _Tuggedly Handsome_. It's a smaller craft, probably used for water-skiing or puttering about. It might be a welcome sight in that it signals the end of this meeting, but Beckett can do without seeing its captain.

"Hey, Princess," Jonas says with a wide, mocking grin. "See what I mean about you always putting him in danger?"

" _Jonas_ ," Jackson barks as he stands, something in his voice causing Jonas to snap to attention and shut his mouth. Castle and Beckett rise as well, unwilling to lose whatever small maneuvering room they have.

 _Nice to know that someone can control that deceitful jackass._

Jackson is approaching the side of the boat to vault onto his new ride when Castle reaches out and grabs his forearm. Jackson shifts into a stance that Beckett recognizes from her training, one from which he could easily flip Castle or grab Castle's hand for a twisting submission hold. But he perches on the edge of readiness, coiled to move but awaiting a signal from his son.

"Thank you," Castle says quietly. "Do what you have to do. But if you can leave Alexis out of it, or even our whole family… thank you."

Jackson looks at him oddly for a moment before looking down at where Castle's hand still rests on his forearm. He reaches out slowly, reaching to clasp hands with his son. At least that's how it appears until Jackson grabs Castle's hand and gives it a ferocious twist, producing an audible snap as a bone in Castle's wrist or arm yields under the pressure. Beckett's surging forward before she realizes she's moving. But, once again, she finds herself frozen in place.

Castle's on his knees, but he's looking at her, not his father. With the smallest shake of his head, he hopes that she'll refrain from trying anything.

 _A secret weapon's no good if it's never used!_

"Not here and not today," Jackson growls. "But when it happens, you'd damned well better be more prepared than you were today. You'd better let go of this cloying sentimentality and be ready to _fight_."

His message delivered, Jackson jumps onto Jonas's boat, which surges forward as soon as his feet touch the deck. Beckett's still held in place as the small craft speeds away, watching her opponents fade into the distance. Jackson's near the front of the boat, making a point of not looking back. No, that's left to Jonas, who can't resist blowing kisses or offering a cheery goodbye wave.

"Come on, Beckett," Castle grunts, surprising her. He's already on his feet, holding his wounded arm to his side while he opens the locker and extracts the towline with his other, preparing for a quick restorative swim. "We've got some planning to do."

* * *

A/N2: There's the counterbalance to last week's lighter chapter. Good times ahead!


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

.

* * *

 **Castle**

"Yes!" Castle shouts with an accompanying fist-pump, nearly breaking Beckett's concentration. Which would be a bad thing, as she's currently holding him about four yards above the deck of the _Tuggedly Handsome._ It's been a long day following a terrible night, but Beckett seems to be on the cusp of her "physics moment," when everything starts to click into place.

 _Knew you had it in you, partner._

"Don't distract me, Castle," Beckett tries to chastise him, though it doesn't sound very fierce when said through a proud smile. "I don't want to drop you. Yet," she adds with a sly look.

"What?" Castle asks, suddenly a little disconcerted. His apprehension grows as he starts to move sideways. "Uh, Beckett?" he manages to ask while trying to contort himself in mid-air. "We haven't really talked about moving stuff around yet."

 _I don't feel like swimming, Beckett. Unless you're in the water with me and our clothes are back on the deck._

"Remember your Gamma demonstration for Alexis?" Beckett asks while focusing to keep her eyes on Castle. "You hadn't tried that before. Turnabout's fair play, right?"

"Over a couch, sure," Castle gulps. "Over the cold open water, not so much."

"Don't whine," Beckett teases. "You can just catch yourself."

"It doesn't work that way," Castle answers tersely.

"What?" Beckett says with a knitted brow. "What do you – oh, no!"

Making the best of his situation, Castle manages to tuck into a ball as Beckett's confusion breaks her concentration and her hold on him. He hits the water hard, throwing enough of a splash to nearly reach the boat.

He breaks the surface with a put-upon look, which grows into a full scowl at Beckett's hooting laughter.

 _Think that's funny, eh?_

Her mirth ending with a sharp yelp, Beckett's admonishing him even as her feet leave the deck.

"Castle, don't even think about it," she growls, comically running in place as she drifts upward, looking like Wile E. Coyote shortly after running off the edge of a cliff. "Rick, I'm serious! I don't have any other clothes!"

 _There are definitely some benefits to all this practicing._

"That's your only objection?" Castle asks with a smirk from where he's treading water. Beckett yelps again when the clasps on her boots undo themselves and the boots themselves slide off her feet, gliding gently back to the deck.

"Rick…," Beckett says in a whinier tone of voice. "I don't want to stop now – I feel like I'm so close to a breakthrough. Besides," she reminds both of them, "it's a long way back to civilization and we need to leave soon to meet Gates."

 _Well, there's a mood-killer._

Beckett smiles thankfully as she floats back to the deck of the _Tuggedly Handsome_. Rather than grab her boots, though, she instead retrieves an enormous bath-sheet and has it waiting when Castle clambers back aboard.

"Uh, uh," Castle says as Beckett starts to step forward, causing a look of confusion. "You wanted to practice – let me have it," he says while standing and dripping in place, arms outstretched.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Rick," Beckett says doubtfully, worrying about an unintended injury. "You had to heal yourself just yesterday – are you so anxious to do it again?"

"Hurry up," Castle answers instead. "I'm getting chilly standing around in these wet things."

"You just want me to strip you down," Beckett accuses with a raised brow, conveniently ignoring that she was about to do the same thing physically.

 _Hey, maybe that's why you dropped me in the first place…_

"Always," Castle replies with a vigorous nod and such a goofy, anticipatory grin that Beckett can't help but smile.

"Okay, Rick, you asked for it," Beckett says before she narrows her eyes in concentration. Starting small, she lifts him off the deck again, thankfully that he wore slip-on shoes that are easily removed. She deposits her barefooted partner back on the deck and gives him a look to figure out her next move.

 _This has_ got _to be one of my all-time greatest ideas._

Castle stifles his smile and lusty look, just in case it causes Beckett to question the pedagogical virtues of this "lesson." He holds his resolve only because she starts with the top button on his shirt – had she gone pants first, he might've embarrassed himself.

 _You look adorable_ , he thinks as he watches her focus on each button in turn. _Oh, that's not fair – sticking your tongue out in concentration? Keep that up and we're going have a very difficult time removing my pants._

Beckett's grin spreads wide as she completes the buttons, but then a brow raises when Castle waves his hands, reminding her of the buttons on his cuffs. "Oomph," he exhales at her phantom poke to his side, but while he's straightening himself up he notices that she's managed to unbutton both cuffs during his distraction. Giving her a grinning nod of respect, both for the poke and the dexterity, he raises his arms so that Beckett can remove both the shirt and the tight tank-top undershirt beneath.

 _Now things get interesting._

Beckett's sizing him up again and Castle knows what she's thinking – the natural step would be to remove his belt, but that hearkens back to Bracken's assassination, of which neither of them need a reminder. He's glad when he feels himself lifting off the ground again. Beckett tries to undo his belt while lifting him, which provides a small shock as she nearly drops him back to the deck when trying to do two things at once. Shrugging an apology but not losing her look of concentration, she sets him back down on the deck long enough to undo his belt, button, and zipper. Then he's aloft again, gravity and improved focus helping to remove his pants.

 _Forget "the return of the curse" – this is the greatest training exercise_ _EVER_ _. She's got me right where I want her._

Castle's there – suspended in mid-air wearing only tight, wet boxer-briefs – when he sees another devilish smile appear on Beckett's face. Growing only a little concerned, he watches her prowl around the deck, keeping him aloft while stalking with a feline grace. He's starting to wonder what she's doing when he feels the cuff close around his left wrist.

 _You little minx – not only were you able to bring the cuffs up here while holding me in place, but you did it while distracting me, too. Extraordinary._

"There," Beckett says with deep satisfaction. "Back to where we started, in a way. Have I told you lately, Rick, how much I like this Gamma physique of yours?" she asks as he starts to rotate, apparently so that Beckett can inspect him from every angle while licking her lips.

 _I feel like a dessert, put on display. And Beckett looks hungry!_

"The only difference from our night after the tiger," Beckett muses, "is that I don't remember getting such a _large_ reaction last time," she says while letting her eyes drop. "And _trust me_ , I checked."

"I thought it might get me killed," Castle answers honestly, nearly rasping out the words from a mouth gone suddenly dry.

"And you think it's going to be _better received_ this time?" Beckett asks with a perched brow and roll of her hips, causing another involuntary swallow.

 _Good Lord you're good at this._

"Presumptuous," she chastises him with a waggling finger movement. "But perhaps not inaccurate," she muses as Castle starts to float back toward the deck. "We've got a little time before we meet Gates, and I think I earned a reward for this practice session, don't you?"

* * *

 **Beckett**

"What did you mean," Beckett asks from her place in Castle's lap in the captain's chair, "when you said it didn't work that way – catching yourself when I dropped you?"

 _Before I sent you for the swim that ended up being so… vigorous._

"Maybe it does," Castle says while rubbing Beckett's back and keeping them on course to the place where they'll be picking up Gates. "But, I've noticed that it's a lot easier to lift someone – anyone – else compared to myself. Have you tried it?"

"Rick," Beckett reminds him, "I hadn't lifted anything until I managed to lift you."

"And a pair of handcuffs," Castle says with a tone of deep affection and gratitude.

 _Trust me, I won't be forgetting those handcuffs anytime soon!_

"And handcuffs," Beckett agrees with a happy, shy smile. "But that's it."

"Well, we'll see if you notice the same thing, but I can't really lift myself more than about a foot into the air, and only when I'm over solid ground," Castle explains as the boat continues to surge forward. "Each additional inch seems exponentially more difficult. But I could probably lift you a good ten yards before I started having trouble."

"I'll have to give it a try," Beckett agrees while letting her head fall onto his shoulder. "You're probably just doing it wrong," she teases.

"You really are fantastic – you know that, right?" Castle asks.

 _I've known it for a while, and I'm so happy that I get to share it with you._

"I told you that you'd had no idea," Beckett says while blushing into his neck.

"I wasn't talking about that," Castle says with a warm chuckle. " _That_ goes without saying. No, I was talking about how quickly you're starting to embrace you Gamma skills. I just told you that there's some weird metaphysical limitation on our telekinetic manipulations based on the object of focus and you just accepted it," he marvels. "Well," he corrects quickly, "accepted it enough to bust on me for it," he chuffs a laugh.

"It's about time, don't you think?" Beckett says with some exasperation. "How many miracles does someone need to see before becoming a believer? Your arm was broken yesterday, Castle," she reminds them both as yet another example of the wonders that almost seem commonplace now.

"True," Castle nods while he flexes him arm and rotates his wrist. "And we just proved that it's certainly up to supporting weight now," he says with a decidedly naughty look. "So," he summarizes, "it was my arm, and its contribution to my general prowess down below, that finally broke through your reticence?" he asks rhetorically. "Yeah, that seems about right."

 _I know I shouldn't let that comment go at the risk of your ego exploding, but I'm just too happy to bother right now._

"Ass," Beckett huffs as she swats him.

"Yeah," he agrees readily, "my ass probably had something to do with it, too."

"Stop it," Beckett chuckles as she leans into him again. "We'll have Gates aboard in less than ten minutes and we can't be talking like this."

"Trust me, Kate," Castle answers in a more serious tone, "I don't think we'll want to talk about this stuff when Gates is aboard."

"True," Beckett replies with a sigh, regretting the necessity of growing more serious. "So, are we sticking with the plan?"

"Yeah, I think so," Castle answers, looking pensive. "We'll tell her as much or as little about me as she wants to know. She's at risk now, so she needs to be prepared."

 _One more person at risk, but one more ally. At least for now – we'll have to trust that once the dust settles, if we're still around, she won't pose a threat._

Nodding, Beckett gives Castle a sweet kiss on the cheek before standing. "I'm going below, just to make sure things are ready. She's already at the meeting place," Beckett says while tapping the phone in her pocket, "so we won't even need to tie up – she'll just jump aboard and we can take off."

"Good," Castle answers with a wry look. "I'll try not to crash into her," he says, reminding Beckett that the usual captain is long gone, never welcome to return to this boat.

* * *

 **Victoria Gates**

 _Here they come. It must be nice to have such wealth at your disposal that you can just buy a yacht as a plaything. It does make it a little easier to ensure private conversations, though. And we're going to need privacy for whatever they want to discuss, especially after I share my news with them._

As the boat approaches, Gates recognizes Castle guiding it in. As he turns the wheel and sets the throttle to reverse, the back end of the boat swings around, revealing Beckett, standing at the ready to help Gates aboard. After a quick jump and greetings between the NYPD personnel, Castle's already got them moving upriver.

"Can I get you a drink of water or anything, sir?" Beckett asks loudly to be heard over the din of the engine. Still not sure what Beckett and her partner wanted to discuss, Gates recognizes that Castle's pushing the engines hard to reach whatever destination he has in mind.

"Water, please," Gates replies, more to buy time than to slake any thirst.

 _As much as this surprises me, we should wait until Mr. Castle joins us before diving into this conversation. We can delay with polite niceties until then._

Beckett returns a few minutes later with a bottle of water, which she hands to the captain before returning to the cabin to pull out the three lawn chairs that she sets up on the deck. Gates, who'd thought that they'd talk in the cabin, reminds herself that Beckett and Castle are together now and having a meeting in their at-sea bedroom might not be comfortable for any of them.

Gates gasps in surprise when Castle joins them a few minutes later, even though the boat is still plowing forward, apparently heading toward the deeper water of Long Island Sound.

 _Boys and their toys._

"Auto-pilot, Mr. Castle?" Gates asks as Castle accepts a water from Beckett before taking a seat.

"Something like that," he smirks, causing his partner to roll her eyes. "We'll be at a good stopping point in about ten more minutes. Anything we should discuss before then, or should we wait until we're at rest and we don't need to shout over the engine?"

"We can wait," Gates says quickly, trying not to belie her discomfort at being on the water, especially since they're speeding forward in a boat that lacks a captain or even anyone at the wheel.

With a nod, Castle heads back up the ladder while Beckett turns to her boss. "We've got a simple dinner, if you'd like to help me set it up?"

 _This evening was going to be strange enough, but this unexpected domesticity seems to make things even more odd._

Gates follows her detective to the cabin, where they extract a table and set it up on the deck. A cooler follows, after which they set out the vibrant red plastic plates and simple metal flatware that apparently live aboard the boat. Just as they finish setting out the food, the engine noise decreases as they slow down, until the engines are cut entirely and the only nautical sound is that of an anchor line spooling out.

Once Castle joins them again, they all take the opportunity to serve themselves some of the simple dinner. But Gates is bursting to get started, so she begins the discussion as only a captain could do.

"I should probably start by asking you each to provide alibis for where you were last night," Gates says to their surprise. "To avoid any embarrassment that might derail the rest of this conversation, I'm simply going to assume that you were together and let you disabuse me of that notion." Noticing no dissent (and a barely-stifled smile by Castle), Gates continues. "Can anyone else verify your alibi?"

"No," Beckett answers with a faint blush. "We were alone – that was the point. And we spent the night on the water, so I don't think any cameras would be able to provide verification."

 _I still can't believe for forthright they're being about this. It's good to see, in a way._

"Look," Gates offers with an odd inflection to her voice that catches the attention of both Beckett and her partner. "I shouldn't clear you. I shouldn't even be discussing this with you, as you're obvious suspects," she says, while Beckett and Castle look at each other in shocked silence. "But I think something else is going on here. I don't think you were involved in _this_ ," she says, reaching into her attaché case and extracting a case file, "but I think it was a message for you. In the interest of tonight's discussion and what might be several points on which we need to extend some trust, I'm breaking just about every rule to let you see this."

Her curiosity piqued, Beckett's already reaching for the file before Gates gulps down some water.

 _I trusted you about the shooter at Bracken's arrest. I'm hoping I can trust you now._

"Oh," Beckett sighs in surprise, the file not conforming to any of her guesses. Turning immediately to Castle, she whispers "Jonas is dead."

"He was found this morning," Gates confirms. "Did you notice where he was found?"

"In an alley?" Beckett asks, wondering why this is significant. A majority of their vics are found in alleys after either being killed or transported there.

 _Oh, detective, I wish I didn't have to do this to you._

"Perhaps I should've asked how he was killed before I asked where he was found," Gates says quietly as her words cause Beckett to start flipping through the pages of the file.

"No," she says quietly, absorbing the words before looking at Castle with wide eyes and handing him the file.

"Skip to the autopsy report, Rick," Beckett suggests in a voice of quiet determination. "Does the pattern of the knife wounds look familiar?"

"Son of a bitch," Castle growls in a low tone as he inspects the pictures and diagrams. "We should have them compared, just to be thorough, but we know it's not the same killer. The last person who killed like this died in the precinct three years ago after you shot him."

"Yes," Gates interjects immediately. "Coonan. That's an interesting time-consistency problem with this case."

"It's not an inconsistency," Castle says gently to Gates as he reaches out to clasp Beckett's hand, his concern for his partner making him brazen. "You were right before – it's a message to us. The knifing pattern was guaranteed to catch our attention, especially with the placement in the alley. I'm sure he would've used the alley in which Johanna was found if it had only been in the 12th's jurisdiction."

 _I thought so, but I didn't think you'd admit it so quickly or so freely. What's going on here?_

"He?" Gates follows up, noting that Castle and Beckett seem to be speaking about someone in particular, not some nameless unsub.

"Sir," Beckett says, sounding more engaged than expected after suffering yet another unexpected reminder of her mother's death. "We'll tell you what you want to know – in fact, it's best if we tell you everything. But you need to be sure that you want to know. We might as well be floating on the Rubicon – there's no going back after this. You can't unlearn what we're willing to share, and you can't confide in _anybody_ without making targets of more innocents"

" _More" innocents? It sounds like this goes back to Bracken, and perhaps back to Mr. Castle's rescue of you and your team. It's time to put everything on the table._

"Tell me," Gates says with gravity. "Please."

"Bracken was assassinated in the precinct by my father," Castle say directly, pausing to let that sink in.

"Your father," Gates replies flatly. "Is this the father that you've never met, the mysterious father of the mystery writer?"

 _I thought this case was about her parent, not yours._

"Trust me, I'd hoped for a more cheerful meeting," Castle answers with a self-deprecating huff. "Instead, he tells me that he'll be assigned to kill us and breaks my arm."

"When was this?" Gates asks in alarm.

"Last night," Beckett answers, causing Gates' wide-eyed look to swivel to her. "Right before he left with Jonas, whom he'd assigned to spy on Castle."

"Your arm doesn't look broken," Gates says, tone colored less by skepticism than confusion.

"I heal quickly," Castle says quietly. "I'm hoping you'll accept other proofs, but you could pull out your weapon and shoot me and as long as it wasn't immediately lethal, I'd be back in action within an hour or two. It'd hurt like a… it'd hurt bad," Castle self-edits, "but I'd heal."

"The tiger," Gates says with a distant look in her eye, already putting the pieces together. "We found blood near the trap door that didn't match to anything, then the motor pool called with questions about who got shot in Detective Esposito's car," Gates thinks aloud while Beckett blanches. "You were injured, weren't you?"

"Yes," Castle answers. "I know it's water under the bridge by this point, but it was critical that Kate got me out of there as quickly…"

"And Detective Ryan," Gates interrupts, her mind churning forward with this proposed explanation. "The three of you danced well in your statements, but the men you caught told a different story. They were convinced Ryan was dead and were quick to try to pin it on each other. And yet, he's the only one who wasn't hospitalized. Was that you, too?"

 _How odd_ , Gates thinks while watching the man who is usually so quick to crow instead seems to downplay his role with a simple nod. _Why not take credit for these accomplishments?_

"And you, detective," she says, turning back to Beckett. "Did he save you, too?"

"Yes," Beckett answers honestly. "In more ways than that."

"Barely," Castle answers with a shudder, too troubled by recalling that terrible day to accept Beckett's compliment. "I didn't know what I was doing then. Heaven forbid anything like that happen now, there wouldn't be a scar unless we needed to show one."

 _And the only reason you'd need to show a scar would be to hide the manner of your healing, right?_

"I always wondered why the mayor pushed you on the precinct and why everyone else was so eager to go along," Gates says, throwing out a comment that she fully expects will be shot down to see what reaction it might provoke.

Castle's about to start talking when Beckett raises her free hand. He cuts off instantly, so attuned to his partner that they need no discussion.

"Castle _earned_ his access to the precinct," Beckett says in a friendly tone but one that brooks no argument. "As we said at the beginning, nobody knows about him. Nobody _can_ know about him. Besides," she says while pausing to look at her partner, who gives her a quick nod, "only recently has he realized his potential."

 _There must be something at risk in this situation, something that has them scared to discuss whatever it is that Mr. Castle can allegedly do. Actually, we need to pin that down before continuing._

"What can you do, Mr. Castle?" Gates asks directly, staring at him as she might a suspect.

"Why don't I tell you about my father," Castle says instead, "and you can draw your own conclusions? When the power went out, we knew something was going on with Bracken, so we went down to check on him."

"How did you get through the door?" Gates asks, already breaking her silent decision to let him talk without interruption.

"I walked through it," Castle says simply, with a small smile. "I thought it'd be much harder than sticking my hand into a safe to retrieve the file we used to pin down Bracken," he says, causing Gates to lower her head and pinch her nose at the thought of illegal searches, "but we got through on the first try."

"Good thing you didn't tell me about that earlier," Gates grumbles. "We should've done that right, should've had a team open the safe with a warrant in hand."

"No," Beckett says immediately. "It was a trap – opening the safe and removing the file would've triggered the bomb."

"The bomb?" Gates trails off, again putting her head in her hands.

 _Maybe I should've expected that given this talk of political assassinations and murderous missing family members._

"Please continue," Gates says, raising her head and wanting to get to the end of this tale.

"We were subdued immediately," Castle narrates in a dull monotone. "There was a figure in black who had Bracken frozen in place. While we were forced to watch, Bracken was lifted into the air and the belts of the guards were used to stage his hanging, but the force of the movement snapped his neck, not the belts."

 _So, Perlmutter's report was accurate._

"And then what?" Gates asks, anxious to reach the end of the story and ask some questions. "He, what – walked out through the door leaving you behind?"

"Then Castle broke free and fought him," Beckett says with fierce pride. "Got some good shots in, too, before he was pinned again." _Nice blush, Mr. Castle_.

"I thought he was going to kill us," Castle picks up the story. "And I wanted to see who he was before we died. I know a trick to burn through disguises," he says with a shrug. "I didn't recognize him, obviously, but it gave him pause. He warned us to back off, told us that we'd have no hope of stopping him or Bracken's partner, told me… he was my father," Castle's voice falters slightly, "and then he left."

"Through the wall," Beckett offers almost apologetically, "not the door."

 _This story fits the facts of what happened, but I'm sorry – magic? Levitation and walking through walls? It's just not possible._

Gates is still thinking about how to phrase her objection when she becomes aware of a tugging on her jacket. Looking down, she sees her brooch trying to pull free of her lapel. As the clasp at the back of the pin comes free, the brooch slowly floats down to the table. Hovering slightly above the tabletop, the brooch hops and spins, gamboling about like a happy ferret before dropping lightly to the table while spinning like a top.

As she watches it, the brooch starts to spin toward the edge of the table. Worried that it will fall, Gates quickly lowers her hand and traps the brooch in place.

"Allow me," Castle says quietly as he reaches over. Gates is thinking about moving her hand when Castle's hand passes through hers, retrieving the jewelry and pulling it up through the back of her hand. He holds it in his palm for a moment before the brooch floats up, slotting itself neatly into place on Gates' lapel, with the clasp rising to fasten it in place.

"You've suspected since I rescued Kate's team that something unusual was going on," Castle reminds Gates, getting a nod in return that seems to bring some focus back to the captain. "This might be a little more than you expected, but if you think about it, you'll find that it explains many of the things that've happened in the last few months."

"You can do the same things your father can do?" Gates asks, still puzzling over the potential risks and benefits to the precinct if what she's hearing is actually true.

"In theory," Castle replies with a shake of our head. "People like us – we get stronger by practicing or by stealing the abilities of others," he says while running a hand through his hair. "I've never met anyone as powerful as him."

 _How would you steal someone's abilities? That makes them sound like property, not innate skills._

"Stealing them from others?" Gates asks. "How does that happen?"

"Usually by killing another Gamma," Beckett answers, diverting Gates' attention again. "Castle figured out a non-lethal option, but it has… other consequences."

 _Oh, Dear Lord. This can't possibly be true – we'd have a stack of bodies as tall as the precinct._

"I'm sorry," Gates says flatly, "but that just can't be the case. You're Homicide, for crying out loud," she says in some desperation to Beckett. "Don't you think we'd have noticed long before now?"

"With one exception," Beckett answers calmly, "they'd be Missing Persons cases, not Homicides. Gammas… evaporate when killed by another."

"What's the exception?" Gates asks, fearful of the answer. She knows it's going to be bad when Beckett turns back to Castle, silently passing the question to him.

"Our abilities are genetic, but recessive. And they don't manifest themselves until an episode of great duress. We've run into a Gamma who killed others, then circled back to claim the lives of relatives, on the chance that the first murder prompted the development of abilities in others. The ones who weren't left their bodies behind."

"That's… horrible," Gates whispers while thinking about the implications. "Mr. Castle, does the mean that your daughter…"

"Is in terrible danger if anyone finds out what I can do?" he interjects. "Absolutely. That's why you can't share this information with anyone. I'm literally trusting you with Alexis' life."

 _Of course. No wonder you were so quick to assure me that your dramatic rescue would remain confidential – anything you do might jeopardize yourself and your daughter. But that means your actions to save Detective Ryan…_

"Thank you," Gates says thickly. "I thanked you before for protecting Detective Beckett's team, but I had no idea about the risks you took in saving them or tending to Detective Ryan. _Thank you_."

With another silent nod, Castle looks to move the conversation along. "My father wanted to meet last night," he explains, immediately prompting a look of concern from Gates and compassion from Beckett. "His objectives aren't clear, but we think know three of them. He wanted to get to know me a little, and maybe make it clear that he already knows enough to take me at his convenience," Castle admits. "He wanted to let us know that he'd be coming for us, and that we'd see him coming. And," he says with a pause, "he wanted to let me know that no one knows about our connection, or my skills, so that Alexis should be safe as long as she doesn't try to avenge me."

"So, why'd he break your arm?" Gates asks. _Wasn't the meeting you describe already horrible enough?_

"You can't tell me you haven't been tempted," Castle answers with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Gates releases a stress-relieving huff and Beckett smiles and rolls her eyes, ostentatiously motioning Castle to get on with it. "Two reasons, I think. I'd touched his arm as he was passing, both to slow him down and to try to scan him – it's something we can do to try to locate a vulnerability. I didn't think he'd notice, but he probably did, or he guessed what I was doing."

"Rick, you didn't tell me that," Beckett objects, annoyed that he hadn't mentioned it earlier.

"Kate," Castle says, looking a little more like his usual self than he did during some of his earlier recitations, "if I told you about every stupid, reckless thing I did, I'd spend all my time healing myself."

"And you think that won't happen anyway?" she growls, mostly kidding.

 _I think you've earned a little cover, Mr. Castle._

"What was the second reason?" Gates prompts.

"He needed time to get away," Castle answers while Beckett nods. "We were right here, on the deck, when Jonas pulled up in another boat. I assume my dad wanted to _dissuade_ me from starting anything while he was trying to leave. He knew that it'd be difficult for me to make trouble with a broken arm, and that I'd need a little time to heal before we could follow."

 _I think it's likely, Mr. Castle, that you're less damaged from having grown up without a father than you would have been in his care._

In a sympathetic tone, Gates follows the new thread. "Your friend Jonas was working for your father?"

"Yes," Castle admits. "So he knows all about me. He knows my family and most of the tricks I've learned," he says while giving Gates' brooch a little, invisible tug.

"Can you protect yourself against your father?" Gates asks, finally addressing the question to which they've been building.

"I wish I could tell you otherwise," Castle answers grimly, happily accepting Beckett's outstretched hand, "but I doubt it. He's incredibly strong. And it seems like he's had lots of professional experience as the hatchet man for Bracken's unknown partner."

"That's actually what we need to talk to you about," Beckett follows up, looking at her captain. "We're not the only ones on his hit list," she says softly.

 _They can't mean…_

"Me?" Gates asks in disbelief, looking crestfallen at the silent nods from Beckett and Castle. "What can I do?" she asks in dismay, thinking that if Bracken could be killed in the middle of her precinct, she doesn't have a chance.

"The first question," Beckett asks gently, "is whether you want to stay."

"What do you mean?" Gates asks in confusion.

"I've set up some safeguards for our family," Castle explains, the squeeze that he gives Beckett's hand obvious to all three of them. "I can protect you and your family, too."

"But… that's not… how?" Gates asks, feeling overwhelmed.

"We can talk about the details on the way back," Beckett answers on their behalf. "But the question is whether you want to go with them or stay at the precinct. I'm not sure we can protect you there," she admits, "but we know some tricks. Besides, he's likely to start with us," she says with false, cheery bravado. "We have escape plans in place that you could use if we disappeared."

 _Protect my family or run away with them – those are terrible options. But we – and they – know what my decision has to be._

"Why me?" Gates asks, but answers her own question before anyone else can speak. "It's because the Bracken file is open, isn't it?"

"Yes," Beckett agrees sadly. "Bracken's partner is averse to open murder files after what happened with my mother's," she confesses while failing to completely contain her look of pride at having finally brought down Bracken, regardless of what happened afterward.

"Wouldn't my demise just draw more attention?" Gates asks, hating herself for grasping for a paper shield, regardless of how flimsy it might seem.

"Captain," Castle answers in a somber tone, "there are a multitude of ways to stage a suicide or an accident or an unfortunate health event. Do you really think that the car crash that killed Bracken's family was an accident?"

"Jackson – Castle's dad – admitted that he made a mistake with Bracken," Beckett explains gently. "Perlmutter caught it and you refused to close the file as a result. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd make the same mistake twice."

"Jonas' death wasn't a suicide," Gates notes, not sure if she's objecting or raising the specter of direct action.

"True," Castle replies, "but it wasn't meant to be. It was a message."

"And what does the message say?" Gates replies, getting only wondering, pensive looks in return.

* * *

A/N2: Posting a little early this week thanks to some free time on the weekend. I'm not sure I'll get the next chapter up as quickly, but I'll try. Many, many thanks for the reviews and PMs, and apologies to those who were disturbed by Jackson's actions.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

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* * *

 **Esposito**

"They're up to something again," Esposito says quietly to his partner across the mess of their desks.

"Definitely," Ryan agrees, avoiding the urge to turn in his seat and look into the conference room where Beckett and Castle have been sitting with Gates, deep in discussion about something despite the lack of a pending case.

 _What the hell are you planning? And why aren't we involved?_

"Can't be a case, right?" Esposito asks, checking his thinking with his partner.

"Doubt it," Ryan answers. "If it was a case, we'd be involved. And it can't be about Castle," Ryan continues, looking pensive, "because there's no way Gates would learn about that and then just sit on it."

"I don't know about that," Esposito replies, turning this thought in his head. "I don't think they'd tell her, but she's ambitious. If she figured it out, she might think about how to use Castle on more cases. Make her look better to the brass."

"Beckett hasn't said anything, though," Ryan wonders. "About a case or anything else that might be going on. So," he asks, moving towards a point of action, "what're we gonna do about it?"

"Do about what?" Beckett asks as she walks by, smirking at the surprised jolt from her team members. She's alone, but the conference room is empty, Esposito notes, so Gates and Castle must be around here somewhere, too.

"We were talking about my apartment," Esposito says, getting an odd look from a momentarily thrown Ryan. "We were wondering what to do if there was a water leak," he says meaningfully, referring to what happened in the Economides apartment, the last time Beckett and Castle did something without him and Ryan. "That kind of thing can lead to all sorts of problems," he says with a piercing look at Beckett, "so we were wondering what might've caused it."

"And what we can do to help," Ryan offers while tapping on his head, reminding them all of his could've-been-fatal injury.

"Well," interjects Castle from behind them, causing them both to jolt again in surprise. "Maybe we should talk about it at lunch."

"Will you two _stop that_?" Esposito growls. "What's with all the sneaking around?" he asks, annoyed that he's been startled twice in just a few minutes, especially since he'd been surreptitiously keeping an eye on both of them.

 _Beckett's sneaky, that's fine. But if my old squadmates found out that someone like Castle snuck up on me, I'd never hear the end of it._

"We're not sneaking around," Beckett replies pointedly. "Or haven't you heard about our new living arrangements?"

Esposito just growls and shakes his head, a clear sign of frustration and embarrassment.

"So, how's that working out?" Ryan asks, trying to move the conversation along for his partner's benefit.

"It's fantastic," Beckett answers happily. "I love staying at the loft," she says as she approaches her desk, where Castle is waiting with her blazer held up for her to don, giving him a sweet, thankful smile in return.

"Really? No problems?" Ryan follows up while standing, tweaking Beckett's suspicion that the gamblers in the precinct have found a new topic on which to take bets.

"Just one," Beckett answers reluctantly, sending a quick phantom pat to Castle's back to let him know that she's just playing.

"Knew it," Esposito says smugly as he stands and stretches in preparation for their walk to lunch. "Is it the video games or the noise? Writing at all hours? Or maybe just a little too much Castle?"

 _Here's a bet we can collect on and I won't even feel bad about it. I still can't believe they let Karpowski out them to the precinct._

"Pshaw," Castle scoffs with a roll of his eyes. "As if that's possible."

"No," Beckett answers as they walk to the elevator while giving Castle a light elbow-shot to the side, his exaggerated reaction nearly sending him crashing into the officers already awaiting the arriving elevator car, "nothing like that. It's the building's elevator. It's _very_ noisy," she confides as she steps into lift, waiting for her blushing colleagues to join her.

 _We're never going to live that down._

After a walk during which the boys are conspicuously quiet, the team pulls into a restaurant chosen at random. Ordering two pizzas, a large Greek salad, and drinks while on the way to a table, they fall into a booth in the back corner.

"Help me remember the cone's on," Castle says with a blush while looking at his partner.

 _That better not be a sex thing._

"You've probably noticed that we've been planning something," Beckett starts, looking at Ryan and Esposito. Their looks alone confirm her statement, so she doesn't bother waiting for verbal confirmation. "We're a bit stuck about how to go forward, though. Specifically," she drawls out, "what roles you might play."

 _All this time with Castle's making you soft._

"What the hell does that mean?" Esposito asks in confusion. "We're your partners. We're _trained_ ," he says, cutting a quick look at Castle. "Why wouldn't we be part of what you're doing?"

"You are _not_ trained for this," Beckett answers. "The only one who's got any training is the one who's preventing our conversation from being overheard right now," she answers while tipping her head at Castle.

 _You can do that? Then why do we keep hearing you flirt with Beckett?_

"Again?" Ryan asks, remembering the last time Beckett told him he wasn't prepared to deal with a threat. "Just tell us what's going on," Ryan encourages. "We'll figure something out."

"Bracken was assassinated by his partner, who feared that he was going to roll," Beckett answers tersely. "Perlmutter didn't rule Bracken a suicide and Gates won't close the file, so now Bracken's partner is sending his assassin to tie off loose ends."

 _What the hell? Didn't you think it was worth telling us this before now?!_

"Not possible," Esposito answers flatly. "The assassin would need to… oh," he stops mid-sentence, now understanding Castle's role. "How do you know he's coming back?" he asks instead, wondering about how well-informed Beckett seems to be.

"Because he told us," Beckett answers, turning to look and nod at Castle as their waitress approaches with food and drink.

 _Why would the assassin be talking to Beckett and Castle? If this goes back to Bracken, then… Castle's vacation. I knew something was going on there. He wouldn't have stayed away from Beckett for that long just because Gates asked him. Something else was going on._

With the waitress' departure, Castle restarts the conversation. "We're silent again. You can talk freely."

"Why don't you talk," Ryan says around a bite of pizza, "about what you were really doing after Bracken died?"

Happy that they're on the same page, Esposito offers a proud nod to his partner.

"No," Castle answers, shocking them both with his flat refusal. "Here's what we'll talk about: how you can help protect Gates without making targets of yourselves."

"We do our jobs," Ryan answers with some heat. "If that draws attention, it won't be the first time."

"You don't understand," Beckett replies, interjecting herself to provide some cover for Castle, who doesn't seem to be his usual, jovial self. "We're talking about someone who killed Bracken in the middle of the precinct, then wiped out the Bracken family for good measure. So, we need you to provide cover at the precinct without doing anything that elevates you – and the people you love – to a level of interest."

"What about you?" Ryan asks. "We're not the only ones with people who are important to us."

"Our family is gone," Beckett answers quietly. "We've already hidden them, and they have directions about what to do if we don't come back."

 _This doesn't sound like Castle at all. I don't know about Beckett and her dad, but Castle'd never leave his kid. I thought he was better than that._

"So you're bailing on Little Castle?" Esposito asks sharply, some of his own issues only too apparent in the way he asked the question.

Beckett reaches out physically to touch Castle's hand and catch his attention before he answers Esposito, since his posture makes it clear that he's not happy about having his commitment to his daughter questioned. "You want to trade abandonment stories, Javi? I've done _everything_ I can to protect her," Castle answers in a low growl. "She's with Mother and Jim Beckett. And if we don't make it," he says thickly, "she's better off without her father than being killed by mine."

 _Your father? But…_

"The assassin? He's your dad?" Ryan asks with sympathy, shaking his head at the morose nods he gets in return.

 _Oh, shit. It's easy to forget that Castle didn't have a dad, either. But now dad's back and threatening to kill them? And us?_

"And he's… like you?" Ryan asks, tapping on his head again.

"The strongest I've ever met," Castle answers. There's no pride in his voice, nor fear. Just sad recitation of fact, laced with a bit of determination.

"I'm sorry, man," Esposito responds, apologizing for his earlier comment as well as the situation in which they find themselves. Castle offers a meager fist bump to show that there's no hard feelings, but plenty of hard work ahead.

"We'll protect Gates, but what about Perlmutter?" Esposito asks. "Leaving him out there would be pretty cold, but I don't think we can explain any of this to him."

"Perlmutter's an annoyance, but his part is done," Beckett replies. "His report is filed and Bracken's body has been processed and is probably breaking down even now. Difficult to propose a new asphyxiation story without the physical evidence to back it up. No, Gates is the linchpin. She could've still considered it a fluke suicide and closed the file. But she didn't," Beckett says with a tone that hints at admiration, "and she won't."

"What about her family?" Ryan asks, wondering if this is what Beckett and Castle were discussing back at the precinct.

"Already taken care of," Castle says quietly.

"So Gates knows?" Esposito asks, turning to Castle. "About you?"

 _Why the hell would you've told her about that? Or maybe she figured it out?_

Castle nods, confirming Esposito's suspicion. "I'm getting worried about how many people know about me," he confesses, "but she was on the trail anyway and it wasn't fair to leave her in the dark about what's coming. I think we can trust her," he says with a sigh. Then, anxious to keep the conversation moving forward, he turns to Ryan. "But what about you? There's room for Jenny, too."

"I…," Ryan trails off, wondering about the stakes and how he'd explain the need to go into hiding. "I need to talk to her about it."

 _Protect that girl, partner. I'm not sure you're you without her._

"Do," Beckett encourages, "and let us know. Javi, anyone you're worried about?"

 _Nice being put on the spot like this._

"Best part of being a free agent," Esposito says with some bravado, "aside from the many, _many_ options, is traveling light. But you've, ah, talked to Lanie about this, right?"

Scowling at the quick look exchanged between Beckett and Castle, Esposito's about to retract his comment when Beckett speaks. "We've talked. She's being a little stubborn, but she thinks she's too low profile to attract attention. Just so we're clear, though," Beckett says, looking guilty, "she doesn't know about what Castle can do, or about the assassin's connection to Castle. She just knows that Bracken's partner is targeting us."

 _I know we have to stay quiet about Castle, but damn, Beckett, you know better than to try to hide something from Lanie._

"She's gonna figure it out," Esposito warns, "and she's gonna be _pissed_ when she does. And not just with you."

"We'll protect you, Espo," Castle promises, "but it's the safest option for everyone right now."

Still looking guilty for keeping her friend out of the loop, Beckett redirects the conversation. "Okay, so that's the background. Let's talk about what you can do to protect Gates."

* * *

 **Victoria Gates**

"Detectives," Gates calls out, "a word, please?"

Exchanging significant looks, Ryan and Esposito rise from their chairs, noting that Beckett's down in the records room, they suspect Gates' request was specifically timed to exclude her from this discussion. Castle's also gone, disappeared somewhere after making a bland comment about running an errand during their way back from lunch.

Following Gates to the stairs, the partners look unsurprised that the conversation is going to take place outside of Gates' office. Even with the exotic options available to them, their foes are probably also adept at more traditional surveillance methods.

A few minutes later, they reach the basement shooting range of the 12th. Gates leads them past the stalls, only two of which are in use, until they reach the corner of the room.

"I understand that Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle brought you up to speed on the situation?"

"Yes, sir," the detectives mumble perfunctorily, trying not to look guilty.

 _What's the… oh. They're nervous. Now that I know about Mr. Castle, I also know some of their previous statements and arrest reports were less than forthcoming._

"Gentlemen," she says tersely, "we don't have time to waste, so I'll say this once. I know about Mr. Castle, which means I know the truth behind several of your recent cases. We're here to talk about how to proceed, not to look back."

Sharing an incredulous look, the partners visibly relax.

 _Not so fast, boys._

"Of course, now that I know what's going on, any future omissions, prevarications, or diversions will result in your immediate suspension if not termination. Just because our civilian consultant has hidden skills doesn't mean we're going to operate outside of the law. In fact, I'll expect you to ensure that those skills are used appropriately. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," the detectives reply, back to mumbling.

Gates nods in acceptance and doesn't dwell on the point. "Now, you've both been briefed about the proposed measures for precinct security?"

When both partners nod, she drops her bomb. "Good. We'll adopt their recommendations, as meager as they might seem. But we're here to talk about how to keep them safe."

"Sir?" Ryan asks in dawning appreciation of her plan. "Do you mean plans that Beckett and Castle don't know about?"

 _Time to prove your loyalty, detectives._

"They're making plans for everyone else – us, our families, their family – but have you heard one word about how they plan to take care of themselves?"

"Castle," Esposito answers vaguely. "He can… do stuff," he finishes weakly with a shrug.

"True," Gates answers, noticing that the detectives still seem surprised that she's both aware of Castle's abilities and that she's willing to discuss is so directly. "But so can our opponents. And tell me this – in your years with him on the team, have you ever known Mr. Castle to get in over his head?"

 _It's okay to laugh, detectives. It was meant to release some tension._

"Maybe once or twice," Ryan admits with a blush, prompting a stifled laugh from his partner.

"We may not have his abilities, but we're damn fine officers. I refuse to believe we can't help them," Gates says proudly, happy to see the detectives perking up at her praise and confidence. "So, let's talk about how to proceed. And to set the tone, I'll start with this: Detective Esposito, do you still have your rifle?"

* * *

 **Castle**

" _Dad_?!" Alexis cries out in delight and fear, peeking out from around the corner at the end of the entry hall. "What are you doing here?"

"You just moved out and I can't come for a visit?" Castle jokes, falling back on humor to relieve some stress. Stepping in to wrap his daughter in a fierce hug, he clears enough room for Beckett and Jenny to follow him into the rental townhouse.

 _Sorry, Pumpkin, but you're going to have to suffer many hugs in the next hour._

"Hello Mrs. Ryan," Alexis says as she offers her hand, battling to remember her manners while noticeably worried about this deviation from the plan. "Hi Kate," she offers more shyly, joining in another greeting hug.

The commotion near the door draws Martha, Jim, and the rest of the Gates family, who join in the welcomes and are included in the happy request to "Just call me Jenny."

 _Now that I'm here, I can't bring myself to jump right into it. Maybe one last family dinner first?_

"Any food stashed away here?" Beckett says in a deliberately happy tone of voice, making Castle wonder if she felt his idea through their connection, knows him well enough to predict his thoughts, or is just hungry herself. _Probably all three_. "I know it's a little late," Beckett apologizes, "but we've been on the road – many roads – for hours."

"I'm still dizzy," Jenny confesses with a blush. "But I am a little hungry."

"You were both in the car with a hungry Dad?" Alexis says while leading the group toward the kitchen. "And you're still talking to him? Being hungry makes him _grouchy_."

"I'm _always_ delightful company," Castle shoots back in reply, scoffing at his daughter's assertion.

"Yeah, Castle," Beckett agrees. "I'm pretty sure that's _exactly_ the word I used to describe you when you first joined the team. _Delightful_ ," she says with an eye roll.

"The first PG word," Castle amends. "I'm sure you thought of others."

"You've got that right," Beckett affirms readily with a look of indulgence. "And you're right that they are not words to use in pleasant company."

"I think I'm going to drop this conversation so I can preserve my own dreams about what those words were," Castle says with unusual wisdom. "Better that than having my fantasies and recollections dashed."

"You think if we stay quiet they'll remember to cook for us, too, or have they already completely forgotten we're here?" Martha asks Jim in a loud, fake whisper.

 _Oh. Right._

"Sorry, Martha," Beckett manages with a sheepish laugh. "We'll behave."

"Mostly," Castle appends, getting a knowing look from his redheads and chuckles from the others.

What follows is a mostly pleasant repast of spaghetti and salad, simple fare for a group of people forced together for safety and bound by bonds of friendship and love. The conversation flows well, with several participants actively ensuring that difficult topics are avoided, especially any reminders of why they're all together in this townhouse hideout in New Jersey, near boat, plane, train, and driving options to make a quick departure. Beckett and Castle cast each other glances and hidden caresses, keeping each other strong and the melancholy at bay.

Only too soon does the dinner wind down, conversation ebbing and being replaced by an undeniable tension. With a long sigh, Castle prepares himself for the conversation ahead when Jenny intervenes.

"Rick," she suggests, blushing slightly at using the given name for someone she's always heard described as 'Castle,' "why don't we say our goodbyes now so you and Kate can have some time with your family before you need to go?" At her gentle, insightful prompt, farewells are exchanged and soon only the five of them – their small, blended family of Becketts, Castles, and a Rogers – remain around the table.

 _God, this is hard. How do I say goodbye?_

"It's time, isn't it?" Alexis asks in a quiet voice.

 _We didn't fool her at all._

"Yes," Castle says as he stands and holds his arms out to his daughter. With tears already coursing down her cheeks, Alexis seeks out his embrace immediately, holding him tighter that he can ever recall.

 _Help me, Kate. Help me be strong for my girl_.

But any thought that Beckett might provide a distraction are lost immediately when he looks up to see her wrapped in a tearful hug with Jim. Releasing Alexis only enough to welcome his mother into their embrace, Castle ensures that no one is left to suffer alone.

After several minutes where only sniffles and raspy breaths interrupt the silence, Castle nudges his ladies toward the kitchen chairs. Beckett and her father follow, all five sitting down for a discussion before the final departure.

"When?" Alexis asks from her seat next to Martha, reaching out to clasp her grandmother's hand.

"The day after tomorrow," Beckett answers quietly, following Alexis' lead to grab Castle's hand but remaining focused on her father. "We've got a note with coordinates to a remote park. Whatever happens, we'll be far from prying eyes and innocent bystanders."

"Which park?" Alexis asks while turning to rub Martha's arm and provide some comfort.

 _Nice try, Baby Bird, but we're flying solo on this trip_.

"One I've not yet visited," Castle answers vaguely, lips upturned slightly despite the serious nature of the conversation.

Unabashed about having been caught out, Alexis gives a little shrug. "I had to try."

"Yeah," Castle agrees. "But what I really need you to do is look forward, Pumpkin. Whatever happens to us, you look forward, right?" Alexis is getting teary again, and she's not alone as everyone around the table dabs their eyes, sniffle, or use dinner napkins to clean up or hide behind. "We've been incredibly fortunate, our little family. We've suffered terrible losses and betrayals, but we're here and we're strong. You might suffer again," he says thickly while looking at Alexis, "but you're strong. And brilliant. And beautiful. You're so much better than me, so much better than I could've hoped," Castle confesses, pulling an embarrassed laugh-sob from his daughter. "So, if I don't come back mourn for me, but live for you, okay?"

"Love you, Dad," Alexis nearly moans as she stands and pulls him again into another hug. They stand there for a few minutes, Castle so lost in his embrace that only the ache in his chest pulls him out of his thoughts enough to notice that Beckett's back with her father. He's whispering something to her and she's either nodding or quietly sobbing.

Pulling himself back, Castle grabs a napkin from the table to wipe his cheeks. When he's done, he sees that Beckett's doing the same thing, clearing the way for another dreaded conversation.

 _But we're running out of time, so no more stalling._

"Jim," Castle croaks out before clearing his throat, "could I have a quick word?"

Nodding readily, Jim tilts his head at the hallway next to the kitchen and the men step into an office into which two cots have been placed to help alleviate the space constraints in the crowded townhouse. Taking a seat on one, he gestures to the other.

"Reminds me of our time back on your boat," Jim says with a brave smile, trying to ease them into whatever conversation Castle has in mind.

"It does," Castle agrees, taking his seat. "And that provides a perfect segue," he continues, catching Jim's attention. "I'm going to apologize for this Jim. I don't like doing this. In fact, I kind of pride myself on _not_ doing this," Castle admits while scrubbing a hand through his hair. "But I'm calling in my favors."

"What do you mean, Rick?" Jim asks in reply, though his shrewd look suggests that Jim might already know where this conversation is heading.

"Since the day I've met her," Castle begins quietly, "I've done everything possible to protect your daughter. You might quibble with my motives," Castle offers with a sheepish shrug, "and I've made my mistakes, but I've done everything I can to keep her safe and healthy."

"I know you have, son," Jim replies quietly. "I thank God for that."

"I need you to return the favor," Castle states baldly, jumping in. "I need you to look out for Alexis if we don't make it back." Jim's already nodding before he finishes.

 _I'm sorry, Jim, but this is my girl. I have to be absolutely sure you can do this._

"I need to know that your sorrow for your daughter won't lead you to abandon mine," Castle says almost roughly, causing Jim's nodding to stop immediately as he looks at Castle with wide eyes. "I wish I could be more gentle and sensitive about this, but I need to know that you won't fall again. You got a do-over," he says while pointing at Jim's midsection, referring to the episode on his boat where they repaired Jim's liver. "I didn't do that so you could fall again. So _promise me_ , Jim, that you won't drown your sorrows. _Promise me_ that you'll take care of Alexis. History can't repeat itself – I love Kate beyond all reason, but I don't want Alexis to suffer what Kate did. If she loses me, I need to know that she'll have support," Castle trails off, emotionally drained. "I need to know that she'll still be loved."

Jim nearly springs up from the bed in response, and Castle cringes, wondering if Beckett's propensity to run is an inherited trait. But instead of bolting, Jim holds out a hand, helping Castle rise from his cot. Pulling him into another hug, Jim's voice is solemn but strong. "I won't fall, Rick, I promise. I won't waste my second chance. I'll protect your daughter, no matter what happens. And I know you'll protect mine. But, Rick?" he asks as he steps out of the hug, his right hand still clasping Castle's, "Let her protect you, too, right?"

"She always does," Castle agrees with a nod, using his left hand to pat Jim's shoulder before releasing their clasp and turning to leave. As he turns, though, he sees the three women from their little family in the doorway, looking haggard but almost hopeful, obviously having overheard at least a bit of the conversation.

"Rick, we need to go," Beckett says quietly, rubbing his arm as she steps around him to give her father one last hug.

Stepping quickly to Martha, Castle wraps her up. "I'm sorry we don't have more time to talk," he apologizes as he holds her tight. "All I can say is this: while I'm sorry to ask you to maybe be a single parent again, I do it knowing that I've never met a stronger woman. I love you, Momma. Live well."

"Dammit, Richard," she laughs and sobs into the crook of his neck. "I was all prepared for a grand stage farewell and keeping my composure quite well, thank you," she complains with another huff. "And then you cheat and call me 'Momma,'" she says with a feeble swat to his shoulder. "Now, hug your daughter, go save the world, and come back to us. And do remember that Jim will be quite put out if you don't bring dear Katherine back with you."

Huffing at her ridiculous words, he places a tender kiss on her cheek before turning for one last embrace with Alexis. This time, there are no words, just raw, jagged love.

Beckett's regretful tap on his shoulder prompts his release sometime later. With another kiss and a promise all the more determined for being conveyed silently into the brave eyes of his daughter, Castle turns and escorts Beckett out of the townhouse and toward the looming confrontation that stands between them and their happy ending.

* * *

A/N2: As I mentioned in some PMs since the last chapter, we're rounding towards a serious confrontation, so maybe not as many laughs as usual this time. Sorry if this chapter edged toward the sappy, but you can't tell me that Castle wouldn't say goodbye to his daughter and that it wouldn't make both of them emotional wrecks.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Full disclosure – this chapter doesn't get as far as you might expect. More down below.

.

* * *

 **Victoria Gates**

 _Here? They've got to be kidding._

"Interesting choice," Gates says while looking around in dismay at the restaurant to which Ryan and Esposito have led her for lunch. "Does the salmonella cost extra, or maybe it comes with a side of _E. coli_?"

"Hasn't killed us yet," Esposito says with a shrug, as if that's a sufficient recommendation.

"It's also out of the way, has no cameras, and has a back dining room that's hardly used," Ryan adds after noting Gates' less-than-impressed look.

 _I kind of miss being the unapproachable head of the precinct. I can't imagine they would've led me to a place like this two weeks ago._

Gates gives them both a flat look to let them know that she's still not impressed.

"It was Castle's idea," Esposito and Ryan finally mutter in unison, selling out the writer to avoid any responsibility for indigestion or food poisoning.

Their server, an attractive young Asian woman, approaches them as if she'd been waiting, waving an arm to invite them to follow her as she winds her way through tables to reach the small backroom that Ryan mentioned. There are only six tables; five are vacant, but Beckett and Castle are sitting side-by-side in the back of a circular booth in the corner.

"Hands above the table, you two," Esposito teases with a laugh as he and Ryan slide in on Castle's side, leaving Gates to close the circle by sliding in next to Beckett.

"Why don't you sit over here so I can punch you, Espo?" Beckett asks with an eye roll. "It's better to pay now than to let it accrue interest."

 _And my husband wonders why I describe part of my job as playing mom._

Esposito's about to reply when their server arrives with a tray of drinks, followed by a colleague bearing a tray of food.

"We thought we'd speed things up and have the food ready," Beckett explains as a complicated dance results in drinks and food being tabled in the blink of an eye. Then, with a smile and a wink at Castle, their server bows and retreats. Beckett doesn't even wait until she's out of the room before delivering a sharp elbow to Castle's side.

"That's a fine way to start lunch," Castle grumbles. "I don't even know her!"

"Keep the charm dialed down, Castle," Beckett says with some exasperation as she scoops some food onto her plate. "We're trying to keep a low profile."

"Low profile," Castle repeats with a chuckle. "That's me."

 _These two are almost as cute as Ryan and Esposito, sitting over there trying to pretend that they aren't thrilled to see Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle together._

"So," Gates cuts into the revelry as she serves herself some small bits of various dishes with trepidation. "I take it there are some developments to discuss?"

The effect is immediate, for which she feels guilty – the jovial mood is suddenly replaced, as if Castle's sigh drew in all the fun and exhaled only foreboding tension.

"Tomorrow," he says simply. The single word causes everyone at the table to cease movements, seemingly frozen in place as they look from Beckett to Castle and back.

"You know it'll happen tomorrow?" Gates asks. "How?"

"We've got a time and a place to meet," Castle answers in a low voice. "Our families are tucked away and safe. By tomorrow night it'll all be over, one way or the other."

"No," Gates disagrees. "By tomorrow night, it'll be _mostly_ over."

 _There's no quitting in my precinct and I'm not giving up on you now. Your team has annoyed me beyond all bounds for months, and I damned well expect that to continue._

"By tomorrow night," Gates explains, "you'll be thinking about the endgame. Your father," she says while casting an apologetic look at Castle, "is working for someone. Come back tomorrow night and then we'll figure out how to finish this once and for all."

Beckett looks curiously at Gates while Castle just nods slowly, clearly lost in thought.

"Where're you meeting him?" Ryan asks, masking his curiosity by taking a bite.

"Far from here," Beckett answers. "It'll take us a while to get there."

"So, what – is he taking you into a different state or something?" Esposito asks after swallowing a mass of food that would've killed a lesser man.

"Quit fishing," Beckett scolds. "We're going alone." Looking around and daring anyone to challenge her, she changes topics when there's no voices of dissension. Meanwhile, Gates turns a subtle look and slight nod to Esposito. _Place the tracker, Detective. We're not going to let these two charge into battle alone._

"He's obviously picked a place that plays to his strengths," Beckett continues while casting a quick look at Castle and getting a sad nod in return, "but it's also remote. The chance of being seen, much less hurting bystanders, is small."

"Why don't I find that reassuring?" Gates asks while trying to imagine the possibilities. Beneath the table, her hand moves stealthily, looking for a way to slip the tracking chip onto Beckett.

"Better there than in the city," Castle says quietly. "But you're right – I'm not encouraged that he's picked a site where whatever we do won't knock down any buildings or collapse any subway tunnels."

He'd meant the comment to be a bit of a lighthearted joke, but it falls flat as the others at the table, including Beckett, stare at him in queasy awe, suddenly thinking about the carnage that might result from a pitched battle between Castle and his father.

 _I guess we'll watch the news and the weather stations, keep a lookout for any unnatural "natural disasters."_

"There's nothing we can do?" Ryan asks earnestly, searching for an opportunity to help his friends.

"You can keep each other safe," Castle says quietly. "If… when we get back, we'll have other ideas to discuss, ways that we can put this to rest. But for now, we should be thankful that things are going this well." Looking around at the disbelieving huffs that he's used to provoking during ordinary cases, he tries to defend his statement. "I'm serious. We know when and where. He could've come at us anywhere, when we were with our friends or family."

"Which is why you're going to walk right into the trap?" Gates asks sharply, though she knows there's no other real option.

"It's not a trap," Beckett disagrees. "It's exactly what it appears to be."

"A showdown," Esposito growls. "You know the best way to win a showdown?" he asks while looking around the group before using his thumbs to point to himself. "With a sniper."

 _Go easy, detective. No need to put them on notice._

"I wish we could, Espo," Castle answers with true regret. "I'll tell you this much – there's too much cover where we're going for you to be effective, probably by design. After you took out the sniper when Beckett took down Bracken, my father would be a fool to overlook the possibility of you trying to get a glimpse of him through a long-range scope."

"So stay here, Espo," Beckett pleas gently. "Help hold the fort, so Rick and I only have one thing to worry about."

"Detective, is there any point in asking why you're ignoring your own advice to venture into this showdown?" Gates asks, making one last desperate plea to keep her best detective off the front line.

"He's my partner," Beckett answers while shaking her head. Reaching out, she takes hold of Castle's hand and grips it fiercely. "Where he goes, I go. For better or for worse."

 _She can't possibly mean_ …

"Did you two get hitched?!" Esposito nearly shouts before getting himself under control and looking around comically to see if anyone overheard.

"We've been kind of busy, Espo," Beckett answers in exasperation. "But just because he's single doesn't mean I'm going to let Castle run around the countryside blowing stuff up by himself."

"Countryside, eh?" Ryan asks, anxious to extract more details about the site of the upcoming confrontation.

"Yep," Castle answers glibly while using his free hand to take a bite of lunch. "An abandoned farm just south of Topeka," he says with a playful look at Beckett. "Or was it Fargo?"

"Des Moines, I think," Beckett answers with a smile, taunting Ryan a bit in another effort to lighten the mood. In her moment of fun, she misses the small nod that Esposito sends to Gates and her return gesture.

 _We're clearly not making any inroads here. Time to switch topics to avoid raising any suspicions._

"This is actually quite good," Gates says honestly after taking a few bites of her lunch. With that small provocation, Castle launches into an elaborate tale about how he first found this place, involving a clandestine meeting with a guy named Horace for one of his Storm books. Apparently, Horace assumed that the whole lunch interview was made up and that Castle was really a PI who was hired to secure evidence of Horace's infidelity. So, he chose a restaurant far away from both mistresses and one where he'd never been, just to make sure there was no chance of an unfortunate encounter. The whole charade blew up after the waitress (not the same one serving them today, Castle clarifies) started hitting on Horace. And after it unraveled, Castle spent more of their interview trying to figure out what made him seem "PI-like" to Horace than on the actual subject of the interview. But, based on the story he got to tell, the ego bump from being confused for a character out of a Spillane novel, and finding a new lunch place, Castle considers the whole episode a rousing success, even if he didn't get anything of use for Storm.

Castle timed his story well, so the tale ends at the same time as plates are pushed away. The group grows quiet, knowing the clock is ticking but hesitant to hasten the end.

"We should go," Beckett finally offers. "We'll call you tomorrow night. And, just in case we're late," she says around a lump in her throat, "thank you. Thank you for keeping us safe. Thank you for being friends," she finishes as she leans into Castle but puts her hand on the table, where it's covered by Esposito and Ryan. After a slight pause and a small, encouraging nod from Castle, Gates adds her hand to the stack.

 _This shouldn't feel as comfortable as it does. I've been on my own for so long – it's good to be part of a team again._

Castle adds his hand to the stack, then gives it a pat. Taking that as a signal, people pull their hands back.

"Thank you," the writer adds. "Thank you for letting me join you, letting me help as I could." Then, with a look at Beckett that she answers with a quirked eyebrow, he turns back to the group.

 _Oh, I recognize that look. Something irritating is on the way._

"And thank you," Castle adds mischievously, "for trying to take care of us, even when you can't." Raising his hand, Beckett reaches out and clasps it in hers. Sharing her own smile with the table, she nods again.

It takes a moment for the other detectives or Gates to notice what's happening, but by then it's too late. Castle and Beckett, hands still linked, appeared to be sinking back into the cushions of the booth. But they were actually sinking through the cushions, disappearing from sight through the rear wall of the restaurant. Aside from a small gasp from Gates, there's no unusual sound from their departure aside from something falling and bouncing on the seat where they'd been. With a quick sweep of her hand, Gates grimaces as she opens her hand to show Ryan and Esposito what she found.

 _His mother must've taught them how to make an exit._

"The trackers?" Esposito asks in disbelief before lurching into action and tearing out of the restaurant. Ryan, meanwhile, probes the cushions where Beckett and Castle had been sitting, reaching out gingerly in case they were hiding right there and then testing the cushions to make sure there was no secret exit.

Esposito returns moments later, looking frustrated and shaking his head.

"Okay," Gates says, trying to turn this situation around. "Detective Esposito – head to the pier, see if you can pick them up there. Detective Ryan, it's time for you to get in position, too. I'll head back to the precinct – use the burner phones to reach me, just let them ring long enough for me to step out my office to answer. Good luck," she says to the two detectives. Then, with her eyes looking upward, she murmurs "And good luck to Detective Beckett and Mister Castle."

"Amen," the detectives answer in quiet solidarity.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"We're being followed," Beckett notes while casually glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Friend or foe?" Castle asks with less concern than would usually be expected in this situation.

 _Someone's getting cocky about being a Gamma. Or, maybe it's just that nothing else can really match the threat that we're already driving toward._

Peering into the mirror again, Beckett huffs out a breath. "Not sure – nothing aggressive, but definitely following us. Blue car in our lane, three cars back. Can you tell?"

Figuring that whoever is driving is too far back to notice, Castle swivels in his seat, battling the seat belt to turn far enough to be able to look straight back. After some squinting he spins to face the front again. "It's Espo."

"Nice," Beckett compliments, any annoyance that he picked them up ( _probably from the pier_ ), overshadowed by pride in her colleague's skills. "But you would've thought that our lunch exit made it clear we didn't want to be followed. Can you shift his car into neutral or something?"

Rubbing his chin, Castle chuckles. "I think I've got something that'll work. When you can, approach a stoplight so you'll be the first car waiting at a red light."

 _You going to disguise our vehicle, make it invisible? Please tell me you're not getting ideas from that wretched James Bond movie._

It takes a few lights for the situation to present itself, but Beckett calls out as they approach a light about to turn red. "Stop, but be ready to move again," Castle says. "This might be a little tricky. Ready? Go!"

Trusting in his judgement, Beckett hits the gas and clears the intersection with ease. _What just happened?_

"Make some turns – if we go on a straight line Espo might find us again. But let me know if you'll be first at a red again," Castle asks.

"Okay," Beckett agrees, "but what are you doing?"

"Changing the appearance of the lights – we get a private green light when we're in front," Castle says with a little laugh. "It's tough, though – gotta get all the lights and the walk signals. Don't want to lead any pedestrians astray."

 _Traffic Division is going to go nuts – none of the pictures are going to make sense because the drivers saw something different. But how incredible that you can alter the look of all those lights._

"Great – so we're racking up tickets for running red lights?" Beckett asks. "The traffic cameras will see the lights as they really are, right?"

"Yeah," Castle admits. "Makes me glad I rented the car with fake ID. But even if the tickets find me, it's a small price to pay."

"Just pace yourself there, partner," Beckett says while briefly rubbing his thigh before returning her hand to the steering wheel. "Getting there will be pretty useless if you're not in shape once we arrive."

"Trust me, Beckett," Castle says with a wicked inflection in his voice. "I can assure you I'll have plenty of energy by the time we arrive tonight."

"Are you kidding me?" Beckett laughs. "Tone it down, Mister Libido. You know the old saying – 'no sex before a fight.'"

"Then what in the world are we fighting for?"

* * *

 **Esposito**

 _Damn it! Stupid magic tricks._

Growling as he watches the car carrying Beckett and Castle drive off ahead of a wave of traffic, Esposito curses the need to keep a low profile. In a real pursuit, he could've flipped on his lights to clear his path and blitzed through the intersection. Instead, his formidable driving skills finally gave way to whatever trick Castle used to ensure a green light.

 _I suppose if he can make himself look different, he can make the lights appear different, too. Plus, they're in another rental car, which was probably obtained with fake ID, so we can't track them on camera, and they've probably got other switches in mind. Would it have been so difficult for them to just ask for help?_

Growling again to himself, Esposito picks up the burner phone from the empty seat beside him. Putting his earbuds in, he hits the second pre-dial number and waits.

"Report?" Gates says tersely when the call finally connects.

"Lost the suspects," Esposito replies equally tersely, though the three words are still enough to convey his frustration.

 _Nothing like blowing a solo assignment from the boss._

"Understood," Gates replies with a sigh, sounding frustrated by not angry. "Fall back and join your partner. Good luck."

Slamming the steering wheel again after disconnecting the call, Esposito cuts loose with a ferocious blue streak to vent his frustration. Feeling a little better, he puts his failure behind him so that he can switch his focus from being predator to prey. Castle and Beckett might've given him the slip, but now he needs to make sure that no one can follow him to his fallback position.

 _Hold the fort, honeymilk, I'm on the way._

* * *

 **Beckett**

"Shoulda known my dad would make me go for a hike," Castle grumbles as he laces his boots, sounding like a petulant teenager forced outside by a parent worried about too much time spent in front of the television or computer.

 _Come on, Castle, it's like penance for all those chores he didn't get to nag you about._

"Not a big fan of the outdoors, Castle?" Beckett teases, trying desperately to keep them in a good mood. It's been difficult, the last day and a half, to focus on anything but their looming confrontation. Even last night's stay at the bed & breakfast wasn't as pleasant as it could've been, neither of them able to fully ignore the specter of their looming fight. But in a burst of optimism, Castle promised that they'd come back after things have settled down and 'really put these antique bedsprings to the test.'

"Kate," Castle almost whines, "I live in the greatest city on earth. Even in the Hamptons I can find a traffic jam if I get nostalgic. We're _hours_ from civilization."

"By which you mean what – reliable cell signals, a constant cacophony of multilingual curses, and three café locations within a block at all times?" Beckett asks.

 _Thanks for not calling me on this, partner. Despite the many pairs of boots I own, I had to purchase hiking boots just like you did. Aside from the cabin – which we're certainly going to visit – I've not been much of a forester, either._

"Exactly! And indoor plumbing, that's high on my list, too." Castle answers emphatically as he stands up and bounces in place a few times. "I guess it's not all bad," he allows after some thought. "I got to buy a new toy and a walk through arboreal splendor with you sure beats a long walk off of a short plank."

"Thanks, I guess," Beckett replies sarcastically, taking his hand and using it to pull him close enough to bump shoulders with him. "So, get out your new toy and make sure we're heading in the right direction. It's supposed to take about an hour, right?"

"Plus any time we take for amorous adventures along the way," Castle suggests with a leer, though it doesn't quite sell his comment. Beckett's not the only one working hard to make things appear normal.

"After," Beckett tries for a laugh. "Something to look forward to."

They fall into companionable silence after that, following Castle's satellite GPS toward the coordinates Jackson provided. The ground is uneven and often thickly wooded, tree roots and brambles offering the constant chance of turned ankles, scratches, or uncomfortable burrs. But, even if the hike takes longer than expected, they'll still arrive with plenty of time to spare. Waiting for time to pass was doing nothing but elevating anxiety, so they decided they might as well show up early and inspect the battlefield in advance.

"Alexis fooled us, you know?" Castle says out of the blue. Not many conversational gambits would've caught Beckett's attention, but that one does.

"What?" Beckett asks as she tromps through the woods, falling back behind him to let Castle's bigger frame plow a path. "What do you mean?"

"The conversation that led to our new living arrangement," Castle answers, speaking loudly so that she can hear him but still manages to sound wistful. At Beckett's sound of disbelief, he makes his case. "I was thinking about that conversation, trying to write it down. I got to thinking about what she said and how she said it. And how your dad reacted."

 _This is exactly why we're not supposed to investigate personal cases – we're just too close to pick up on details. I didn't notice a thing!_

"Really?" Beckett asks, turning the thought over in her mind. "I'm not sure I see it, Rick, but I hope you're right. It doesn't change the fact that I was brave enough to ask," she says proudly, "and it would mean that Alexis must've been okay with us, right?"

"You know she likes you," Castle answers, teasing.

" _Like?_ Sure," Beckett agrees. " _Trust?_ I don't think so. But that might be changing."

"'Course it is," Castle answers happily. "Family trait – we trust Becketts. Genetic predisposition."

"What _is_ genetic," Beckett ripostes, "is sneakiness. I've known from day one to keep my eye on you. But now you're telling me that Alexis is tricky, too."

"Trickier," Castle says proudly. "We're all just rats in Alexis' maze."

"What a lovely metaphor," Beckett complains, before remembering an interesting nugget from their last outing with Castle's dad. "But don't you mean hamsters, not rats?"

" _No_ ," Castle answers immediately and forcefully. "Not hamsters."

"Again with the hamsters?" a voice asks from off to their right, where Jackson seems to step out of the shadow of a tree where neither had noticed him.

 _You and Martha could've traded notes about making an entrance._

"Are we at the OK Corral already?" Castle asks in confusion while taking another look at his GPS and giving it a shake. "I thought we had another half-mile to go."

"No reason we can keep this polite and walk together," Jackson answers, falling into step beside them. "But we need to keep moving. We're too close to a hiking trail here."

 _Oh, so_ _now_ _you're worried about harming innocent bystanders?_

Again they walk in silence, but this time it's anything but companionable – the addition of Jackson has raised defenses and his apparent nonchalance spurred no small amount of confusion. But if he's bothered by any of this, he hides it well.

 _I'd suggest we play cards rather than duel, but I think you might have a better poker face than Rick._

Castle releases a small, inappropriate laugh, which both Beckett and Jackson notice.

"Sorry," Castle chuckles. "It's just that I've been so preoccupied with the whole looming demise thing," he says with affected indifference, "that I haven't been thinking about some of the potential applications for what I've learned. I just realized that I could totally own the poker group these days. Good-bye bluffing."

 _Sometimes the similarity in our thoughts is just a little creepy._

"You're among the most powerful people on earth and you're thinking about how to cheat at cards?" Jackson asks, upsetting Beckett because she was about to say something very similar.

"Not much point in being powerful if you can't have fun," Castle says with a shrug, earning an indulgent eye roll from his partner and a look of exasperation from his father.

"But speaking of leisure activities," Castle segues, "you expecting to have time to read?" he asks in reference to a book that barely fits in the back pocket of Jackson's jeans.

"I'll explain this when we get to the clearing," Jackson diverts easily. "Why don't we talk about your decision to bring your battery, here," she says with a nod toward Beckett. When his comment doesn't provoke an immediate response, he continues. "I know all about this _connection_ of yours. Joseph wouldn't shut up about it, and his dying regret was probably that he never figured it out. Jonas told me how you drew on her to heal her father. I've met a lot of our kind and never heard of anything like this."

"How many of you are there?" Beckett asks.

 _That's right, Jackson, tell me all about Gammas, since you and Castle are the only ones here..._

"How many Gammas?" Jackson repeats the question, looking pensive for a few steps. "No one really knows – we're too good at killing each other, so we either wipe each other out or convince people to hide. I'd guess… maybe 20, 25 freed Gammas in New York."

"So few?" Castle can't help himself from asking. "That's… sad. Seems lesser than it should be."

"I don't know about ' _should_ ,'" Jackson objects. "Given how many petty dictators or foreign agents have tried to build a private army of Gammas, I'm actually pretty happy we're so few. But don't forget – in addition to active Gammas, there're the genetic carriers."

"Makes you wonder if our murderous proclivities are an in-built inhibitor," Castle wonders. "A way for society or the planet to ensure that we can't hit critical mass to blow up the moon or alter our orbital path or anything."

"How many have you encountered?" Jackson asks, ignoring his son's musings. Turning the question over in his mind, Castle apparently decides there's nothing tactically sensitive about answering the question about number.

 _Just don't tell him about the guy at Diane Economides' apartment – we don't want him to know about how you targeted his nexus._

"Five, I think," Castle answers after thinking for a moment. _Seems odd to think that he might've met twenty percent of the population in New York. And seen most of them die_. "Five," he confirms.

"So, three in addition to me and Joseph," Jackson ponders. "You obviously took out the one who got Joseph – thanks for that, by the way, he was a good man. He must've been very strong – Joseph wouldn't have gone down easy."

"It was a she, actually," Castle confesses quietly. "I never told Jonas about her, just said that his brother was killed by a Gamma. He seems – or seemed, I guess – like the kind of guy who'd think less of his brother for being bested by a woman."

 _Yeah, no kidding._

"She was probably Russian," Jackson speculates, ignoring Castle's adjusted verb tense recognizing Jonas' demise. "They're especially effective at training and placing female Gammas. I know there is – or at least _was_ – one running around New York."

Having no idea who he killed or where she was from, Castle merely shrugs in response.

"Then there was whoever went down at the marina," Jackson chuffs out with a laugh. "Man, was Jonas pissed off about that. First, his home and few worldly possessions get torched and sunk, then I tear a strip off him for trying to get into some poor woman's pants while he was supposed to be watching you."

 _Screw this. I'm tired of this runaround, tired of trying to pretend like we're not walking to a clearing where we're going to try to kill each other. Why can't we just get some answers?_

"Why?" Castle asks, coming to a sudden stop. "Why Joseph and Jonas, why the secret surveillance? Why kill Jonas?"

"Keep walking," Jackson answers, and Castle feels himself shoved forward. Beckett, noticing his ungainly start and what it means, casts him a look wondering if they should just throw down right here and cut to the chase.

 _Just say the word, Rick. You don't have to put up with this._

When Castle stops again, Jackson sighs. "I'll talk, but keep moving. Time's ticking." When Castle takes a few steps and cocks a brow, Jackson's answer to Castle's question is short and explosive. "Long-term recruitment."

' _Jackson and Son, Assassins. Crusaders, Ideologues, and Politicians a Specialty!' I don't think so._

"You've got to be kidding me," Castle answers flatly. "What would possibly make you think that I'd want to be an assassin?"

"You're going to classify my job based on one task?" Jackson asks, sounding like an irritating teacher scolding a lazy student. "But, why you? Let's see – you shadowed someone at the CIA, talking your way into more than a few classified situations. You've got an inherent ability to befriend and charm people – not just ladies – who are then inexplicably happy to do you favors. You've gravitated naturally toward grooming contacts in industry and politics, it's not unusual to see you in a variety of target-rich settings, and you've got an established career that involves travel and events at which you meet and mingle with locals. And," he says while casting a look at Beckett, "you have recent experience studying homicide and domestic law enforcement procedures."

"So, what?" Castle asks incredulously, his voice sounding a little shrill. "I was supposed to be your apprentice?"

"Already got one of those," Jackson grumbles. "Jackass. He actually thinks I don't know he's planning to take me out. Well, he can try," he says with a lupine grin. "No, Richard, you were supposed to be my replacement, not my apprentice."

Castle's laugh is so odd – forced and yet incredulous – that even Beckett looks at him in alarm.

 _Rick, are you okay?_ Beckett thinks, frustrated that she can't use her skills to pat his back or rub his cheek lest that give her away to Jackson.

"What on earth would make you think I'd do anything like that? _I'm_ not a killer, or a spy. I'm a _writer_ ," Castle exclaims.

"No, you're a liar," Jackson charges. "Tell me this honestly, boy: if you'd been freed and trained by then, what would've happened to Lockwood, eh? You beat the hell out of him with your bare hands – what do you think you would've done with your mind? What do you think you'd do if someone threatened her again," he asks with a nod to Beckett, "or went after Alexis?"

"I would protect them from aggressors," Castle replies hotly, "like I did when Kate arrested Bracken. Which is a hell of a lot different than sneaking into a police station and killing four innocent officers on the way to killing a detainee."

"Depends on how you define 'aggressor,' I suppose," Jackson replies evenly. "And whether you're content to just play defense or if you're willing to take the fight to them. Do you doubt that Bracken was an aggressor, a man of violent and homicidal intent? Do you doubt that the world is better off for his removal?"

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you try to rationalize your sins," Castle nearly spits at his father. "Bracken was _in hand_. We had him dead to rights, had him in a place where those he harmed could actually get some measure of justice for their losses."

"So you prefer that the wronged get to feel good while more people are harmed?" Jackson prods. "Your sense of closure is worth more than the lives of more innocents? Don't pretend you're suddenly some big advocate of due process."

"No, I'm an advocate for doing the right thing," Castle replies. "You killed four innocents just to take out Bracken – oh, and his family, too. How many others have died over the years just because they got in your way?"

"You doubt that Bracken wouldn't have taken out more people from his cushy cell in a low-security federal prison?" Jackson asks with a roll of his eyes. "Never figured you for a rube."

 _That's more than enough of your bullshit. You don't get to disappear for 40 years and then berate the son who became a beautiful man in your absence._

"Who are you to choose?" Beckett seethes, furious at this man for deriding Castle. "Who is your _boss_ to choose?"

"What a match you are," Jackson laughs as he continues tromping through the woods, laughing to himself. "Who would've thought to find two bumpkins in the middle of New York City?" he asks rhetorically. "You can't really think that this is unusual? I hate to burst your bubble, but welcome to how the world's been ruled for the past thousand years. Every society has its affectations, its window dressings. But every society is molded by the actions of the few with the vision and will to effect true change."

"I obviously got my writing skills from Mother," Castle answers with a laugh. "What a hackneyed, contrived plotline. The intelligentsia, with their _pet_ Gammas," Castle smirks at Jackson's snarl, "are the ones shaping domestic and foreign policy, ruthlessly weeding out the undesirables and malcontents? Gee, that doesn't sound like a situation that would lead to corruption, decay, or tyranny," he says facetiously while rolling his eyes.

"It has," Jackson allows, looking like he was going to continue his statement to explain how his benefactor was different before Castle cuts him off.

"It _is_!" Castle nearly yells. "Do you think we didn't notice that Bracken's accounts were dry and his revenue sources seem unaffected by his death?"

"Private battles require private funding," Jackson answers tersely, causing a full-blown guffaw from Castle.

 _Easy, Rick. Are you trying to provoke him into starting early? That's fine, just give me some kind of signal!_

"So, fix it," Jackson encourages, changing tack. "You think it's so terrible, _do something about it_. Something other than sitting on your ass and second-guessing me."

 _Sure. We'll just walk into your boss' office to have a nice discussion, maybe fill out a job application._

"Your boss is a morally bankrupt coward, hiding in the shadows while playing God. I'll be damned before I work for him or his lackeys," Castle prods.

 _Making up for him missing your teenage years, Rick? I remember causing the same look of dark irritation in my father, too._

"You don't know shit, boy," Jackson growls. "You don't know a thing about him or what he can do."

"I know he didn't protect Johanna Beckett," Castle asserts. "How good could he be?"

"Hell, boy, Johanna was dead long before he got hold of Bracken," Jackson says in exasperation. "Bracken was dirty and he got compromised as a result. It's elegant, really – isn't that exactly what he did to your old Captain and his buds?" he asks of a scowling Beckett. "He contained Bracken and when it became apparent that he wasn't going to change, he took Bracken out. You gonna ignore the good that he did, you gonna judge someone you don't know by the company you think he keeps?"

 _Thank you, Rick. Thank you for pushing for that, for letting me know that Bracken killed my mother before his partner was in the picture. Even if things don't go well today, at least we avenged her._

"Yes," Castle answers fiercely while looking directly at his father, the implication clear, "I'm going to judge him based on his actions and associates. And don't pretend that there was anything altruistic about killing Bracken – that was an act of fear or greed or malice."

"Fine," Jackson answers tersely. He looks like he's got more to say, but after a few steps the thick wood suddenly gives way to a hidden clearing. It's not large – maybe 40 yards long and not more than 20 yards wide in the middle, narrower at the ends. Surrounded by acres of trees, it would be a difficult spot to happen upon randomly, and given the spreading branches of bordering maple, birch, and oak trees, it's probably barely noticeable from the air.

 _How did Jackson find this place? Once we take care of him, that's something we might want to think about – it might give us some clues about who he is or where he goes._

Their small group had paused when breaching the clearing, but Jackson restarts their movement by walking toward the center of the clearing. As he does, he reaches into his coat, removing something from the breast pocket. Beckett tenses, years of training warning her about the possibility of a weapon, before she reminds herself that a gun is one of the few things she doesn't need to worry about during this hike.

Jackson's hand comes back into view holding a clear plastic bag, into which he drops the book Castle had noticed earlier. Zipping the seal shut on the bag, Jackson keeps walking forward while he extends a hand in front of himself, making a scooping action. At the center of the clearing, a large section of soil peels back, leaving a hole about four feet deep.

 _Given all your mindgames, I'm surprised you didn't make if coffin-shaped, maybe floated over a rock to serve as a headstone._

Jackson comes to a halt on the edge of the hole, peering down into its depths as if trying to divine the near future.

 _I bet Castle's thinking about pushing him in._

"This book," Jackson says as he holds the bag over the hole, "goes to the survivor. I've had it since the beginning – it's got all my notes on what we can do, whether I've figured out how or just heard about it." With that, he drops the book into the hole. "It also has the name you want," he says quietly as he sweeps his hand in front of him, during which the pile of dirt refills the hole. "He thinks I'm taking you two days from now. So, if you win, you've got two days before he regroups."

Turning to face them, Jackson dusts off his hands as if he'd just done manual labor. "Now," he says brusquely, "you ready to fight, or do I need to break your arm again to get your attention?"

* * *

A/N2: I was sure that this chapter would have the big confrontation, but then the characters kept talking. There's no time left, though: the next chapter will pick up where this one ended. So, for anyone looking for a battle, stay tuned. I don't expect to manage a mid-week update. There's just too much going on and looming professional deadlines, so I'll hope that I can update next weekend.

We're getting close to the end of this tale, probably just two chapters left. Unless they start talking again.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Buckle up for a long chapter to make up for the delay. More down below.

.

* * *

 **Beckett**

"So, how do we do this?" Castle asks his father, standing in the narrow clearing. "Is this like a Victorian-age duel or something where we stand back-to-back and walk 15 paces before turning?"

Unable to help herself, Beckett shakes her head and stifles a grin from her spot a few yards away, loving that her partner's irreverence is unaffected by the stress of their situation.

"Sure," Jackson says with a grim smile, "You can do that if you like."

 _And turn his back to you? I'm not thinking that's a great idea._

"Well, you're the master Gamma – is there some form or protocol we're supposed to follow?" Castle asks, sidestepping slowly to put more distance between himself, Beckett, and Jackson. "Every time I've fought, it's kind of just been a big free-for-all."

"Okay," Jackson says amiably, "we'll do that."

Then, quick as lightning, Jackson makes a sweeping motion with his arm, shooting a torrent of fire that starts toward Beckett and arcs around toward Castle. When the flame reaches Beckett she dives aside but it's held away by an invisible wall, but when it comes around to Castle it passes through him without leaving so much as a tendril of smoke.

 _He moved so fast! Thanks, partner, that's another one I owe you._

Without waiting for another pass, Castle's arms are on the move, both hands thrusting downward. The ground rings as if a struck gong, deep impact impressions at his sides showing where the force of Castle's push entered the earth. Both Beckett and Jackson wrinkle their brows, but before they can look away the energy that Castle sent downward returns beneath Jackson, blasting him skyward. He's still soaring upward when one of Castle's electrical bolts hits him in the right thigh, charring his pants and sending him spiraling.

 _First touch to Castle! Keep them coming, babe._

But just as Castle's looking proud of his opening move, the earth beneath him opens up, tree roots reaching and clawing at his legs.

"Castle!" Beckett shouts, but it's too late. Distracted by the illusory assault on his legs, Castle fails to see ball of fire that his father, now stationary and floating high above the clearing, sends blazing toward him. Though it's earlier than they'd planned to have her intervene, Beckett starts to reach out to try to shield her partner. But with a cry of alarm, Castle dives. Beckett looks on agape as her partner plunges into the ground as if it was water, feet disappearing just before the fireball crashes to earth, leaving a charred blast zone.

 _How in the hell did he do that?_

With his adversary lost to sight, Jackson remains in mid-air, but it looks like the effort of staying aloft is taxing him.

 _Maybe Rick was right – maybe lifting yourself takes a lot more energy than lifting someone else._

The ground near the edge of the clearing erupts, spitting Castle out like bad tooth. Castle himself is gasping and spitting, but he rises quickly to face his father.

* * *

 **Castle**

 _Got to remember to close my mouth next time I try that._

"You've been practicing," Jackson notes as he floats back to the ground.

 _You might think you're distracting me, but I saw your flinch. Staying aloft wore you down, and that leg burn looks pretty painful. It's just a small taste of what you did to Davies, Hunter, Murray, and Cruz at the precinct._

"That was my chore, right dad?" Castle asks. "I didn't want to get grounded," he says with a laugh at his pun while surveying the electrical damage to Jackson's leg.

"Is everything a joke to you?" Jackson growls in reply, holding his arms out to his side. "I thought I told you to be ready to _fight!_ " The last word is shouted as Jackson swings both hands forward, hands meeting in front and producing a clap of such force that Castle's launched backwards through the air. Though not graceful, he manages to windmill his arms enough to land in a controlled tumble. Unfortunately, Jackson launched himself forward, too, running full tilt toward Castle with electricity arcing up and down his arms.

 _Now would be a good time to help out, Kate._

Whether she felt his emotions or had the same reaction, Beckett spins in place, quickly locating the formation she marked upon their entry to the clearing. Pretending it's a waterlogged Castle, Beckett slowly lifts a suitcase-sized rock from the path that led to the clearing. Turning to see that Jackson's nearly reached Castle, she spins to face them, towing the rock slowly but with increasing speed.

 _Okay, I can work with this. Just get it close and I'll take care of the rest._

Still heaving from his efforts so far, Castle again moves to dive into the ground as his father approaches at full speed. But just as Jackson's crouching to intercept, looking like he planned to electrify the ground around his son, Castle jumps up rather than down. With a yell, Castle swings his arm as he moves, so that this time it's Jackson who's on the defensive, trying to fend off an electrical web powerful enough to make Beckett's hair lift from her neck from her spot twenty yards away.

"That's all you can manage?" Jackson sneers. "Again! You can't stop, can't take a break. Hit me!"

The web's already dissipated by the time Castle lands with another rolling thump, his efforts clearly draining him as he struggles to his knees.

 _That didn't even slow him down and I couldn't tell where he broke the web. Come on, dad, where in the hell's your nexus?_

Jackson, meanwhile, is either completely focused on besting his son or completely dismissive of Beckett. Noticing Castle's labored breath, he advances slowly toward his son. Unaware that Castle's jump was calculated to put Jackson between himself and Beckett, Jackson fails to notice Beckett's special delivery on the way.

"Why are you stopping?" Jackson yells at his son. "So what if there's no running water? Get up and fight!"

 _Mother's going to get an extra hug when I get home. I don't think she yelled at me as much in my teenage years as this jerk's managed in ten minutes. Excepting the cow incident at Faircroft._

Apparently taking his father's advice, Castle shoots both arms forward. His left arm sends one of his trusted fireballs blazing forward, while his right hand seems to produce a wind that fans the flames and shoves at Jackson.

With a shake of his head and a grim laugh, Jackson sidesteps, not even wasting the energy to block Castle's efforts.

"Come on!" Jackson yells again. "You're wasting your energy."

 _I doubt you would've moved over if I'd asked nicely._

Castle's uncharacteristic silence warns Jackson that something's amiss, but seconds too late. He's just turning to check his blindspot when Beckett's rock hits him like a cannonball. With a sickening crunch that must've resulted in at least a few broken ribs, the rock sends Jackson to the ground.

 _I'm sorry, dad, but this is what you wanted._

Even Beckett steps back in shock at the size of the fireball that falls atop Jackson. As he did with his maneuver to reposition his father, Castle whips his hands forward to send waves of oxygen forward to stoke the flames. Soon, Beckett's using her newfound skills to shield herself from the blazing heat and her arm to shield her eyes from the intensity of the inferno. Castle slowly circumnavigates the conflagration, edging around to put himself between his fallen father and Beckett.

 _Stay down, dad. Please stay down._

Castle fans the flame until he lacks the strength to lift his arms. Falling to his knees, he lets the fire die, happy that its departure makes it easier to gulp down some heaving breaths. Left behind in the wake of the blaze is a smoldering wasteland, blackened ash radiating outward from a lumpy mass.

Feeling his exhaustion through their connection and knowing him well enough to know that this confrontation's put him in an emotional vice, Beckett tries to send a wave of support to Castle, just a small portion of the proud awe she feels for her partner. With halting steps she moves to help him rise. But she freezes in place at the sight before her.

Castle, with head bowed as he sucks in breath after breath, hears his father before he manages to lift his head to see him. In some sick, twisted parody of a much gentler life, Jackson quickly stands erect, dusting himself off before affecting a yawn and a monstrous stretch. As if it's time for morning calisthenics, Jackson puts his hands on his hips, leaning side to side and twisting at the waist to show that his ribs are just fine. The motion also draws attention to his limbs, especially the leg that Castle blasted at the beginning of their encounter. While the pants still show the charred hole over his right thigh where the bolt landed, the skin that peeks through is whole and healthy.

"Thanks, boy," Jackson says boisterously and with affected cheer. "Did I ever tell you how much I like fire?"

 _Son of a…_

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _Oh, no. Castle worked himself to exhaustion and it only made his father stronger._

"Tactical error, son," Jackson scorns as he starts walking forward. "If you don't know your opponent's element, you'd damn well better mix up your attack. And if you _do_ know," he says with a dramatic pause, stopping in place to stretch his arms wide, lean his head back and take a deep breath, "then you pick a location where that element can't come into play."

Jackson's just lowering his head from his theatrical pose to drive the point home when another rock crashes into his chest, knocking him backward in a tumbling heap.

 _Got caught monologuing there, old man?_

Not pausing, Beckett tries to continue the barrage, lifting anything she can find to hurl it at Jackson – rocks, branches, logs, even clumps of dirt. With a grateful nod, Castle lurches to his feet and stumbles towards her, careful to not block her line of sight to his father.

"Keep hitting him," Castle groans in encouragement, still sucking in large gulps of air. "I just need a little time to rest."

The words have barely left his mouth before there's a small eruption around Jackson, all the detritus Beckett threw at him blowing away as he again stands and dusts himself off.

"Interesting," he says as he takes in Beckett and his son. "Maybe 30 of us in the whole state and you find your way together without killing each other?" he says, thinking out loud. "There's been so much surveillance – how did we miss you being freed?" he says while looking at Beckett.

 _Surveillance? They were watching me?_

"You were watching her?" Castle asks, picking at the same thread as his partner while sounding highly affronted on her behalf. _Thanks, partner._

"I was watching both of you, obviously," Jackson says in exasperation, "though for different reasons. It was nice when you started shadowing her – made my life much easier when you started spending time together. At least that was the initial thought, until your partnership invigorated the digging into her mother's case."

 _We've got to get him off this train of thought._

"Which led to her getting shot," he muses aloud while nodding at Beckett.

 _Dammit._

"Which led to you saving her," he says while turning to Castle.

 _He's figured it out. Now we have one more reason to make sure we're the ones that survive this encounter._

" _That's_ the connection, isn't it? I'll be damned," he laughs. "A split Gamma. No wonder Joseph was so confused. He never even suspected." Starting to walk around the pair as if studying a particularly interesting zoo exhibit, Jackson taps his chin as he thinks out loud. "In all my life I've not heard of something like this, not even the hint that it might be possible. Imagine the implications!" he says in wonder as he continues his inspection of them. "I know some people who would be very interested in getting their hands on you."

 _Forget it. No one's going to touch Castle._

* * *

 **Castle**

 _No way. No one's going to touch Beckett._

With the looming threat of capture and probably torture preceding their demise, Castle finds a second wind. He immediately launches at his father, copying the clapping trick that blew him off his feet earlier in this encounter.

Lost in his musings or his assumption that Castle was too exhausted to fight, Jackson's surprised by the shockwave that sends him hurtling backwards, though it has little effect. He catches himself easily and halts mid-flight, hovering over the ground. Lowering himself gently to the ground, he lets a feral grin crawl onto his face as he stalks back toward Castle.

"So, you want to play with air?" he asks. "Alright, let's dance." With that odd challenge, Jackson steps into an apparently awkward pose, standing almost in profile to Castle with his arms bent at the elbow and one fist atop the other.

 _Bad move, dad. I know a thing or two about sword fighting. Never thought all those duels with Alexis would come in handy._

Jackson looks surprised when Castle adopts a defensive stance. Castle grins as he thinks about the blade with which he'd actually taken lessons he never told Alexis about, lest she find out that he was cheating to win their lightsaber duels. Feeling the air solidify satisfyingly in his grip, Castle finds himself actually looking forward to this dance.

With a nod in recognition of his son's preparation, Jackson lowers his arms and charges. Toward Beckett.

"No!" Castle screams as Jackson's arms arc toward Beckett.

But Beckett's not defenseless, nor is she inattentive. While pretending to be nothing but a 'battery' she'd watched Castle and his father attentively, desperately hoping to learn and apply new tricks as quickly as Castle sometimes manages to do. And in this case her efforts pay off – Jackson's swing was aimed at chest height, which means that it passes harmlessly beneath her feet after her diving leap backward.

 _Nice moves!_ Castle thinks proudly as he closes on his father, but his thoughts prove premature.

With Beckett already in the air, Jackson gestures with one arm. Rather than try to fight or ground her, he's sent a wave of force that launches Beckett on her established trajectory. Unable to stop herself in mid-air as Jackson had, Beckett lands hard on the edge of the clearing, her tumbling momentum coming to a quick halt as she slams into a tree and lies still at its base.

It doesn't matter who's in front of him – Jackson, Bracken, Tyson, any of the terrible murderers Castle's encountered since he started following Beckett – all Castle sees is a blinding red fury. Arcs of electricity crackle and pop along the length of his invisible sword as he advances on the person who hurt Beckett.

Taken aback by the implacable expression on his son's face, Jackson hedges backward before setting his stance. The force of Castle's swing still knocks him back, the burst of light from where their weapons collided further disorienting him as he blinks to clear his vision.

"Not bad," Jackson grunts as Castle hammers away. "I'm surprised you know which end to hold," he jibes, goading Castle into a more blistering attack so that he can prepare a counter-strike. Letting his technique grow sloppy, Jackson feigns fatigue, slipping backward to time his attack.

Castle levels a fearsome horizontal swing, exactly as Jackson had hoped. Arms already moving while he ducks Castle's attack, Jackson thrusts his blade of air at Castel's upper thigh, aiming for the elegance of a neat severing of the femoral artery rather than a slashing blow. He's almost as shocked by Castle's pivot that blocks the strike as he is by the foot that connects with his chest, knocking him back. Stunned by his son's proficiency, Jackson scrambles back to get reset, no goading words to encourage his son to keep fighting this time.

Beckett struggles back to consciousness at the edge of the clearing but blinks several times to convince herself that she's really awake. Thirty yards away, Castle and Jackson are taking wild swings at each other. They'd look ridiculous, like kids playing with imaginary swords, except that they're both focusing with an intensity that makes the stakes clear. And every time their weapons make contact, there's a blinding flash of light and the sound like a hammer striking an anvil that pierces her already throbbing head. Her struggle to sit upright must be felt or seen by Castle, who flashes her a quick look before turning back to his father.

 _So. Tired. Get up, Beckett. I'm running on empty and need some help._

Jackson's careful eyes recognize Castle's fatigue. Changing tactics, he falls back to just playing defense. Already exhausted, Castle still recognizes the futility of this situation. He's not landed more than glancing blows, and ruining his father's clothes won't get the job done. With no energy to spare, Castle also falls back into a defensive position, leaving father and son panting and staring at each other.

"Luke, I am your father," Jackson taunts, trying to goad Castle into attacking again. Instead, he looks puzzled when his son starts laughing.

 _That's it dad, keep talking. Give me time to rest._

"It took me _years_ to win Beckett over," Castle says with a laugh. "A few fights and a trip on the water and I've already got you telling jokes."

"You like to laugh, funny man?" Jackson growls in response, angry that his taunt was turned on him and that his son seems a little more invigorated as a result. "Laugh at this!" he says as he makes a throwing motion, sending his weapon flying at Castle, who focuses on pulling up a shield like the one he used to protect them as they left the restaurant after arresting Bracken.

The problem with his plan is that there's no Espo here as a countermeasure this time, nothing to prevent Jackson from pounding away on the shield with spears of air. Each blow renders Castle that much more exhausted, increases the chance that the next hit will shatter the fragile barrier and leave him completely exposed.

 _I can't… I can't… Come on, Beckett…_

Risking a quick look, Castle's dismayed to see that while Beckett is awake, she's still trying to stand, fighting to rise from her knees and looking wobbly even from a distance.

 _Time for desperate measures._

Castle turns back to his father, who looks like a demented ballplayer. Each throwing motion is followed by the solid impact on Castle's shield. Worse, it looks like his father's frustration is increasing the velocity and ferocity of each pitch. With a deep breath, Castle focuses on holding his shield. Something in the way he looks spurs Jackson to greater effort. With a low growl, Castle's father seems to hold the next pitch, letting it build before winding up for a delivery that whistles with menace, like an incoming artillery round.

 _I'm sorry, Beckett._

The impact rings out as Castle's shield shatters around him. He flies backward through the air, riding Jackson's spear until it impales him against the trunk of a beautiful oak tree. It's a horrible juxtaposition, the ancient and lush denizen of the forest supporting the broken man whose twitching legs dangle uselessly above the ground.

* * *

 **Beckett**

 _Dear God. No. Not again._

" _Castlllllllllle!_ " Beckett screams, her voice a horrible and discordant stew of agony, fury, and loss. Her mind is having trouble processing the gruesome sight even as Castle struggles to turn his head toward her voice. There's a circular hole in his midsection, whatever invisible force pinning him in place allowing a clear view of his pulped intestines. Still twitching, Castle paws ineffectually at the force holding him place, the gore from his seeping wound starting to reveal the shaft of Jackson's spear.

Wrenching herself to her feet by sheer willpower alone, Beckett doesn't pause to think. She simply thrusts out her right hand, an accusing finger pointing at Jackson. With another cry of fury, Beckett's assault on her lover's killer begins.

It sounds as if thunder rumbles, though the sky is still mockingly clear. It takes Jackson a moment to realize the origin of the sound, after which he crouches and shields his head with his arms. All through the clearing, the ground quivers, bubbling as if alive. Spewed up from the depths where they may have rested since the last glacial pass, rocks, stones, and boulders emerge, trembling as if they share Beckett's rage. When the clearing is choked with these terrestrial asteroids, Beckett's left hand joins her right in pointing at Jackson.

Castle's father finds himself at the origin of wave of concentric circles that collapse upon him, pummeling, shattering, and strangling. After the third wave he's lost to sight, the dust and grit from Beckett's attack suffusing the air around him. By the sixth wave, Beckett's feeling woozy, but she _will not_ fall. At the tenth wave, the projectiles start following an arcing path, since a straight-line shot would be blocked by the debris around Jackson. By the fifteenth wave, Beckett's fighting to stay on her feet.

After the twenty seventh wave, she falls to her knees.

After the thirtieth wave, her arms fall to her sides and she sobs.

 _I'm sorry, Castle. I don't know how to heal you and I don't have the energy to stand._

She sobs again when she hears the skitter and clatter of rock that confirms her failure. With an outline barely visible through the sinking cloud of dust, Jackson emerges from the mountain of stone, coughing vigorously but otherwise looking unaffected.

 _I tried, Rick. That was supposed to be his funeral cairn._

Sliding down the pile of rubble, Jackson brushes himself off and starts a slow walk toward Beckett.

"The problem with your connection," Jackson says as he draws near, features coming into terrible focus as he steps into the cleaner air, "is that once someone knows you're a Gamma," he says with a dramatic pause as he stops a few yards away, "and knows what happened to you and how you survived," he says while tapping his chest, "then there's no mystery about the location of your nexus."

 _No. Not like this. At least let us die together, not on separate sides of this God-forsaken deathfield._

Slowly, almost gently, Jackson reaches out with fingers outstretched and palm toward Beckett, even though he's still yards away. His fingers slowly close, as if catching a wayward butterfly, but Beckett can feel the grasp that he has on her nexus. With cold dread, she knows what's coming next.

"It wasn't supposed to end like this," Jackson confesses. Gone is the man who was shouting at his son, deriding his performance. The weight of condemning Castle to death and perhaps erasing his only true mark on this world seems to be weighing on him, making him look old, tired, and fragile.

 _Now_ _you think about what you've done?!_ She'd laugh in disgust if she had the energy.

"He would've joined me," Jackson continues. "You might even have joined me. Without Bracken between us, this could've worked. Even after, I thought, I hoped…"

"He's not dead," Beckett begs unashamedly. "It doesn't have to end this way."

Her heartbreaking plea causes them both to look at Castle. He's still there, pinned to the oak, one hand dangling at his side. As they watch, the other hand slips from the now blood-coated haft of the spear. Just as his arm falls to his side, Castle seems to melt, his body simply sliding down the trunk of the tree. By the time it reaches the ground, it's nothing but a cloud of blue mist.

In a scene she's seen before but never with such revulsion, Beckett watches in disbelief as the blue cloud starts to churn, floating and twisting toward them. As she'd expect from her writer, the floating mist seems almost playful, drifting and twisting as if delighting in the ability to move so unreservedly. As it approaches, the mist coalesces into two smoky bands, splitting and darting toward Jackson and Beckett.

 _I don't understand. I thought we were connected._

The blue mist envelopes Beckett. But rather than soaking into her, it warms her briefly before she feels a gentle caress on her cheek.

Realization dawning, she casts a quick look at Jackson to see the blue mist clouding around him, too. His brows knit slightly as the mist swirls around him without soaking in. He realizes something's amiss as the mist solidifies around him, leaving him gasping and grasping in the middle of an airless bubble.

This time, she knows without looking that the hand on her back is corporeal. Turning her head to drink in the sight of him, she can't help the sobbing bark of a laugh when he asks "Did'ya miss me?"

 _Castle, if we survive this, I'm going to kill you._

* * *

 **Castle**

 _I've never seen anyone look so happy and furious at the same time._

"Come on," Castle urges as he helps Beckett to her feet, "we need some room to move and that bubble won't hold him for long."

"Rick, how?" she asks as she ignores his advice and hugs him. "I thought you were…"

"I'm getting pretty good at those illusions," he confesses with a quick squeeze. "Figure'd they'd work for something other than sneaking through traffic lights. Now, come on, get behind me," he urges her as they back away from his father, who's still gasping and thrashing.

"No," Beckett says stubbornly.

 _I love your obstinacy, Kate, but not now!_

"Not in front. Not in back. Side by side," she says as she reaches out for his hand.

His sweet smile in response breaks when he hears his father's desperate gasp for air as he breaks free of Castle's trap.

"You," Jackson gasps as he sucks in air, face red and sides heaving. "Bastard."

"Whose fault is that?" Castle answers with a grin. Then, without waiting for a response, Castle raises his arms upward while rotating his wrists, looking like a particularly flamboyant "Y." Before anyone can comment, though, the air around them starts to blow and whirl, quickly increasing in speed.

"Waterspouts?" Beckett shouts over the sound of the whipping wind.

"Good practice," Castle yells back, nodding backwards so that he and Beckett take more steps to separate themselves from his father, who's still on his knees recovering while scrabbling to find a handhold against the howling wind.

Soon, the dust created by Beckett's attack and the dirt she churned when arming herself starts to color the winds that whistle around them. They're in the eye of the windstorm, standing in peace while the winds howl around them.

"Can you lift a few of your boulders?" Castle shouts with a grimace, focusing on keeping the winds circling. "Just toss 'em in, I'll get 'em delivered."

Straining herself, Beckett reaches out and tugs a globe-sized rock from the pile. As it draws near, it's swept up in the twirling winds. After three revolutions, it hurtles at Jackson with blistering speed. He raises his arms, but the impact of the rock drives him backward even as it shatters on his shield.

 _Seems like all I do is knock down walls._

With Beckett tossing fodder, Castle soon has the air filled with swirling stones, he and Beckett twin suns orbited by a host of small, doomed planets. As soon as the wind provides enough speed, each stone is turned on Jackson, who continues to be knocked back with each earthen explosion.

Jackson tries several countering strategies, to no avail. His first attempt is to step forward, to knock down the stones before they arrive, but he's unable to match the frequency with which they speed toward him and needs to dive back behind his shield. He tries turning incorporeal, but quickly gives up that strategy when Castle just recollects the stones that pass through him, sending a constant, revolving stream toward him so that he risks a pummeling upon solidifying again. He considers offense, sending several lightning bolts at Castle, which Beckett blocks with a proud, grim smile. Meanwhile, his attempt at offense left him open – with Beckett providing defense, Castle can focus solely on raining rocks down at his father. Finally, to the silent delight of both Beckett and Castle, Jackson fails in his attempt to copy his son's earlier move, attempting a beautiful dive into the ground that is unyielding before him, leaving him crumpled, exposed, and embarrassed. Quickly crouching again, Jackson shelters behind his shield while trying to come up with another plan.

 _Can't keep this up for much longer._

Betting on his son's fatigue, Jackson apparently decides on a bold strategy to assert himself. Taking an enormous breath, he steps out of his low crouch, standing tall against the whipping wind and hailstorm of stony projectiles. Where these had previously forced him back, he now stands his ground, staring proudly at Castle and Beckett.

"Keep hitting him, Rick," Beckett shouts over the sounds of wind and shattering rock. "I won't let him get to you."

 _Protective to the end. Thank you, Kate._

Desperate to finish this battle, Castle gropes for something to hurl at his father before realizing, with chilling dread, that he's running low. The vast pile that Beckett created has nearly been smashed to dust, and it's folly to think that there're many options left after the incredible way she cleared the field.

 _Don't think I have the energy to start uprooting trees. Though I've seen enough of that oak._

Collecting the five biggest rocks he can find, Castle sweeps them into the vortex, spinning them even faster than he'd previously dared. With a flinch, Castle loses control of one of the stones, which shoots off harmlessly into the distance. With a grimace, Castle strains himself to hold onto the remaining four.

The first is nearly a blur when it shatters against Jackson's shield. The only reaction is a smile from his father, who then raises his arms into the air.

Desperation providing even more fuel, Castle sends the second rock into the shield. This time, Jackson turns and offers his son and Beckett a salute. Castle's too confused by the gesture to stop his efforts, sending the third rock at his father.

Just before the earthen cannonball arrives, Jackson lowers his arms. And, apparently, his shield. The stone strikes him low in the torso, shattering his lower ribs, pulverizing his midsection, and probably crushing his lower spinal column. He flops backwards like a rag-doll, tumbling end over end until coming to a rest on his back with arms akimbo.

 _What have I done?_

The winds around Castle die immediately, the remaining stone falling directly to the ground. The unexpected silence is eerie, having suddenly displacing the screaming winds and exploding stones. Castle lifts a foot to step toward his father before he flinches and puts it down again. An orange light blossoms over his father, revealing that this is no illusion.

 _I almost wish it was._

Knowing that Jackson is down, Castle looks at Beckett. She gives him a nod, her fierce detective's demeanor standing aside long enough to show him her loving support. It's gone in a blink, replaced by the resolute look that clearly indicates that she'll continue to guard him in case this is another trick.

Castle runs to his father's side, slowing for the last few steps before gently kneeling at his father's side. In the time it took him to arrive, small rivulets of blood have trickled from Jackson's nose and mouth, another clear indication of massive internal injuries.

"Oh, dad," Castle says in a low voice that breaks halfway through his short exhalation. "Why? It didn't have to be this way," he laments as he gently takes his father's hand.

"Did," Jackson coughs out. "You might be strong enough," he grits out, before closing his eyes and melting away even as Castle grips his hand to try to keep him from leaving.

* * *

 **Beckett**

Even as Jackson's fading into mist Beckett's running forward, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around him from behind. The blue mist doesn't even need to move or split – it just drifts the few feet from where Jackson had lain to surround Castle and Beckett. If the effect of absorbing Calypso or the Gamma who'd tracked her was like plugging into an electrical outlet, this is like grabbing a high-tension wire. Beckett and Castle actually convulse as the power soaks into them, freezing, twitching, healing.

It feels like a new day when it ends. When Beckett comes back to herself, she's sprawled out on the ground next to Castle, who's also struggling back to consciousness. Rolling over and throwing an arm over his chest, she holds him tight, reveling that they survived, that they're together and healthy. And more powerful than she ever could've imagined.

 _What a horrible legacy_ , she realizes as she feels Castle tense in her embrace. _Jackson must've killed – I don't even want to think about how many people must've died for him to become this powerful._

"I'm so, so sorry, Castle," Beckett murmurs into his chest. She'd think about using her newfound skills to rub his back or cheek or something, but after everything that's happened today, being Gamma-free feels more real, more genuine.

"Thank you," he says with a squeeze, before slowly sitting up and disengaging from their embrace. Rising briefly, Castle takes a few steps and lowers himself to his knees. Beckett raises herself into a sitting position, giving him some space as he reaches out to clasp the end of the jacket his father had been wearing. For many long minutes they are frozen like that, the only motion coming from the slow course of silent tears, Castle for his father and Beckett for Castle.

Finally, Castle starts to move, carefully folding his father's clothes into a neat pile, uncaring about their tattered condition. Pocketing a set of dog tags, he places the clothes atop Jackson's boots. Lifting the pile gingerly, he returns to his feet and walks over to Beckett, offering a hand to help her stand.

Releasing her hand to reach into his pocket, Castle huffs out a sad breath as he pulls out a handful of plastic, microchips, and wires. "I don't think my new toy was Gamma-proof," he says unnecessarily as he returns the pieces back to his pocket.

"I can get us back," Beckett promises. "But you need to learn to be more careful," she teases as she pulls out her cellphone. Incredulous that her phone survived her wild tumble and collision with the tree, he gives her a curious look about what she's doing, since they already know that there's no reception here.

Holding the phone before her, Beckett takes a few pictures before switching to video mode and spinning in place, recording the whole of the devastated clearing.

 _It looks like someone bombed a fire zone. There isn't an unturned stone of a piece of undisturbed sod in this entire field._

"For Alexis," she explains softly. "In case she wants to know."

Castle looks like he's not sure that's a good idea, but he's still grateful that Beckett's thinking about his daughter.

"I'd like to see her," Castle admits, his need to reconnect with his surviving family obvious.

"We need to get the book, first," Beckett reminds him unnecessarily, before looking back at the clearing and letting out a low groan. "Oh, Rick," she laments, remembering how she churned the ground while pulling up stones. "We'll never find the book."

Shooting her a raised brow, he rolls his eye and points with his free hand. "It's right there," he says as the book emerges from the ground about 20 yards away, floating gently to Castle before settling gently on top of the cradled stack of Jackson's clothes.

"Oh yeah," Beckett says sheepishly. "Old maps. Almost forgot."

" _Almost forgot_ ," Castle teases, taking an obvious look at the absolute devastation around them. "'Cause we were so subtle."

With a laugh, Beckett gives a blushing nod and reaches for Castle's free hand. "Come on, Castle. We need to see our family. Let's go home."

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

"Jim," Martha asks quietly from the chair where she's reading the script for a one act play written by one of her students, taking a break from groaning and shaking her head. "May I ask you a favor?"

"Of course," he answers from his spot on the couch, setting aside the deposition in hand to focus on Martha's request. He hates it. Not Martha – he's come to enjoy the company of Rick's mother and daughter very much. Jenny and the Gates family are pleasant, too, though he doesn't feel the same connection to them. No, he hates the tenuous fragility in the townhouse, the desperation to pretend everything is normal when they're all worried sick – it reminds him too much of the situation his addiction created in the past.

No one mentions their private fears, knowing that everyone here has someone at risk. Personally, he wonders if talking about their worries wouldn't help deal with them, but everyone else seems to act as if acknowledgement would instead increase anxiety. So, they've drifted apart physically even as they try to hold together emotionally. The Gates family largely stays upstairs; he, Martha, and Alexis usually congregate here in the living room; and Jenny flits about, her natural friendliness making her the lone traveler and _de facto_ goodwill ambassador of the group.

"What can I do for you, Martha?" he asks, again marveling at how contained she seems in their state of confinement.

Placing her script to the side, Martha turns to confide in him. "I'm worried about Alexis," she says in a quiet voice, trying to ensure that she's not overheard.

"I'm worried about all of us," Jim answers with a teasing smile, earning a huff and a grin.

 _That's it, Martha. Rick would want you smiling._

"She tells me she's fine, but I can tell when I'm being _handled_ ," Martha complains. "She's wants to be strong for me, no matter how much I encourage her to stop acting."

 _Thank goodness my courtroom experience has taught me to keep a straight face._

"I thought you taught people how to act," Jim replies with a raised brow and coy look.

Releasing another low laugh, Martha purses her lips to stifle her smile and shakes her head. "My son is off who-knows-where," she complains again. "I thought I'd be safe from wordplay. But you're probably right," she says with a sigh. "She's probably acting exactly as she's been taught."

"I'm sorry, Martha," Jim replies with a smile. "I don't yet have your son's knack for lightening the mood." Noting that Martha's moving to disagree, he forges ahead. "How can I help?"

"Would you go speak with her?" Martha asks, her words sounding a little desperate. "She's become attached to you," Martha says with a smile. "I think the combination of your dinner with her and Richard's trust in you have really impressed her. If you talk to her, she might actually reply."

"Of course," Jim answers, trying to hide his gratification at being accepted. _Thank heaven for second chances._ "She's still puttering in the kitchen, right? I'll go give her a hand."

"Try getting in her way," Martha suggests. "It's what her father would do."

Huffing his own laugh, Jim rises and stretches. "I'll go talk with her, but why don't you go rest? None of us are sleeping well and it might set a good example for Alexis."

"I hope you're more clever when you're in court," Martha mutters good-naturedly. Accepting his hand to help her rise, she heads to her room after rubbing his arm in thanks.

Once he hears her enter her room, Jim turns to amble down the hallway to the kitchen. Not looking to startle Alexis, he lets his feet fall heavily as he approaches and even whistles a jaunty little tune.

"Smells delicious," Jim compliments when Alexis turns her head to see his approach.

"Thanks," she replies, shy but pleased. "I finally figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Jim asks as he enters the kitchen and sits at the table. Rather than join him, Alexis continues to move about the kitchen, cleaning up her effort that led to whatever's in the oven.

"Dad," she answers before opening the refrigerator. "He spends a lot of time in the kitchen. I always thought he just likes to cook, and maybe he does."

"But?" Jim asks, smiling his thanks as Alexis sets a freshly-poured glass of iced tea on the table before him.

 _Made exactly as I prefer, I'll bet. These Castles like to keep their Becketts caffeinated._

"But I think it's also a good way of dealing with stress," she says as she opens the steaming dishwasher to remove the silverware rack. Placing it on the table, she grabs two handtowels and takes a seat next to Jim. With an encouraging smile, he prods her with silence. "It's a good way," she continues as she plucks a fork from the rack before drying it with the towel and setting it on the table, "to take care of the people you care about when you're worried that doing something bigger wouldn't be welcome."

 _Such a lovely, compassionate young woman_.

Jim continues in silence, suspecting that Alexis is feeling nervous and exposed. If this were Katie, addressing a comment delivered so carefully would likely send her running. So, instead of talking, Jim reaches out gently for the other towel that Alexis brought to the table. Stretching, he tugs the silverware rack to where they can both reach it. Side by side and speaking without words, Jim and Alexis set about their idle task, creating little piles of brightly shining silverware.

"Jim?" Alexis asks as they have only a few lingering items left to dry.

"Hmmm?" he replies as a gentle hum.

"Will you talk to Grams?" she asks as she looks at her lap, ostensibly at the serving spoon she's drying, but really to hide her flush of embarrassment. "I don't think she's doing well but she's trying to put on a brave face for me."

 _Don't laugh, Jim. Alexis wouldn't take it the right way._

Managing to keep his composure, Jim tries an alternate suggestion. "She's resting now. How about the three of us talk, right after dinner? I think she's worried about you, too. Seeing you doing well would help her, I think."

"Yeah, okay," Alexis says gratefully as she stands and grabs a handful of silverware to put in the drawer. As she turns, though, she lays her hand on Jim's shoulder briefly before returning to her task.

Proud of himself for successfully navigating a conversation with a teenager that didn't end in disaster of some sort ( _not yet, anyway_ ), Jim takes a long swallow of iced tea. It tastes delicious, of course. He probably doesn't even realize the contented grin to which it contributes.

Alexis has just grabbed more silverware to put away when her gasp breaks Jim from his contemplation.

" _Dad?_ " Alexis asks from her place behind Jim. "Dad, what's…"

"Shhhhhh," Castle shushes in a low tone with a finger to his lips. His other hand is extended palm down, motioning downward to reinforce the need to keep the volume low.

 _Rick looks tired. And… dazed?_

Coming into view behind Castle, Beckett emerges. She's silent and intense, weapon drawn. Her eyes take in the room, scanning for people and threats, and pass over Jim's eyes without even a flicker of warmth.

 _Or recognition._

Jim tenses in place, trying desperately to figure out what to do, how to protect Alexis and at least warn the others in the house. _And here I sit at the kitchen table – I can't even stand without drawing attention!_ Looking at the tabletop, he's dismayed to realize that Alexis has already put away the knives and forks. _Okay, Jim, no problem. You're seated, there are two disguised Gammas in front of you, one of them already has a gun drawn, and your choice of weapons include soup spoons and an ice cream scoop._

With a fortifying breath, Jim acts as if he's going to take another drink of iced tea, but then makes a show of holding his hand back while looking apologetically at 'Rick' and 'Katie,' as if chagrined about relaxing while they look so tense. His other hand, meanwhile, starts playing with a spoon that he begins to pull toward the edge of the table.

 _Maybe if I hold the wrong end and aim for an eye?_

He's still thinking when Alexis, still standing behind him, gives his shoulder a squeeze. "It's okay, grandpa, go ahead. You can still drink your tea."

 _Clever girl. Not only did she figure it out, too, but she's already come up with a test._

She gives his shoulder another squeeze when her salutation has no effect on the other two adults in the room. _There's no way that Rick or Katie wouldn't have reacted to 'grandpa.'_

Jim's trying to figure out how to coordinate with Alexis when her hand on his shoulder trails away. She's walking toward the man posing as her father leaving Jim terrified and wondering desperately how to protect her.

"Oh, Daddy," Alexis says in a low, stuttering voice, her own terror clear but easily mistaken as appropriate. "I was so worried," she says as the tears start to fall down her cheeks. She moves slowly toward him with arms outstretched, a frightened daughter looking for reassurance.

Any doubt that this isn't the real Castle are immediately dismissed. Before he can school his features, a brief flicker of confusion and distaste flits across his face before he adopts an encouraging smile. Ruse completed, he opens his arms to receive his daughter.

"Oh, daddy," Alexis says again haltingly. She curls into his chest, and Jim feels icy bands around his heart as 'Rick's' arms close around her, holding her tight.

 _Dear God, what do I do?_

Armed with his spoon, Jim leaves his free hand on the table to mask his efforts to reposition himself on the edge of his chair. Whatever happens, he's going to need to move fast. _Probably faster than these old bones can manage, but I'm not backing down._

There's a sudden grunt from the man hugging Alexis, a surprised and confused exhalation. Then they stumble, looking like an odd parody of a dance. The man appears desperate to stay upright, to cling to Alexis, but his arms don't seem to be working. They finally slacken and fall, allowing Alexis to step away. But even with the extra distance, her right hand stays flush to 'Rick's' chest, where it twists the knife that's buried to the hilt just beneath his sternum. The sound of her quiet sobs aren't enough to mask the wet squelching of the knife as it rotates.

'Beckett,' standing behind her partner, can't see the knife but knows something is wrong. And though there's no mirror to let her see the flickering of her appearance, she can see that 'Rick's' disguise is blinking in his distress. Her weapon, already drawn, comes forward.

The explosion next to her causes her to flinch and crouch. The shards of glass don't cause any harm, but they distract her for the second it takes her to realize that it was a glass of iced tea that hit the wall next to her. Looking back, she sees the old man tackle the girl. They land on the floor with the old man trying to cover the girl as if worried about a physical attack.

Her partner, meanwhile, is slumped on the floor. He's twitching, but the flickering of their disguises and his inability to move make it clear that he's finished.

"Well, shit," 'Beckett' says in a voice that flickers just like her disguise, some alternative mix of Beckett's voice and that of an unknown man. "I guess I should say thanks. That guy was a dick. But he had skills," the Beckett imposter admits. "The boss's gonna be pissed about losing him. And it doesn't change my orders."

 _I'm sorry, Rick. I tried. I don't know how to protect her._

"A favor, please?" Jim asks, then continues without waiting for an answer. "Drop the disguise? I'd like us to meet Saint Peter without our last earthly vision being that of my daughter killing us."

"Sorry, pops," the imposter replies without much sorrow. "He's the Gamma, not me."

As if the words were prophetic, though, the man on the floor tenses, gasps, and relaxes. The noise catches the attention of the three in the kitchen, who watch as the body deflates, knife clattering to the floor as the body into which it had been so cunningly inserted dissolves into mist.

"Oh, no," Alexis moans as the mist-cloud shifts and roils until it surrounds her.

"Interesting," says the man with the gun, now clearly visible without a disguise.

 _He looks like a lawyer_ , Jim thinks in surprise. Indeed, he's wearing a tie and blazer, a nondescript man in his mid-30s that Jim would've passed on the street without giving a second look.

"This changes things," the man says, rubbing his chin with the hand not pointing a gun at Jim's back. Alexis gasps, both in reaction to his words and as the mist seems to be soaking into her.

"Be brave, Alexis," Jim whispers in her ear. "Your father will come for you. Just hold on," he whispers urgently. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you better."

"Time to go, Red," the intruder says, waving the gun to tell them to separate. When Jim refuses to let go of Alexis or rise from the floor, the gun moves towards his legs, where a shot will incapacitate him without mortally harming the girl. "Last chance, pops."

Jim holds to his decision just as fiercely as he holds Rick's daughter. He's made his peace and he's made his choice. His only regret, aside from not being able say goodbye to his daughter, is that he couldn't do more to protect Rick's family.

 _I'm coming, Jo. It took a little longer than it looked like it would, but I'll be there soon_.

Jim flinches as the shot rings out, still trying to provide whatever comfort he can offer to Alexis. But as he hears a crash, he realizes that he feels no pain. Risking a look, he sees the imposter slumped on the floor, his upper body leaning awkwardly against the wall. Eyes flashing past the gaping wound in his chest, Jim focuses instead on his glassy, unseeing eyes. He's still looking at his would-be assassin when the door behind him bursts open. Jim's instinctively curling around Alexis again when Kevin Ryan bursts into the room with weapon drawn.

"It's me," he says urgently. "The real me. Tiger. Gates. They call me honeymilk. Alexis's had a crush on me since she worked in the evidence room," he offers to verify his identity. The embarrassed groan beneath Jim suggests that the last comment was an effective proof.

 _Death by embarrassment. As if you've not been through enough this evening._

"Detective Ryan?" Martha asks, rubbing her eyes and looking around in confusion, clearly just haven been awakened by the noise. "What's going on? Where are Richard and Katherine? Where's your partner?"

"We haven't heard from Castle or Beckett. Javi's across the street," he says while looking at shattered kitchen window through which Esposito's shot travelled. "Now, look at me through your phone's camera, but do it quick. We've got to get out of here."

* * *

A/N2: I know that there are lingering questions, but have faith, we'll get there. As for my chapter count, I was off by at least one. The next chapter will be very short – there's a bit I want to separate from the rest, plus it will prove that I can write short chapters. I'm afraid work is still going crazy and I'll be on the road again, so probably nothing until next weekend, but maybe the short chapter will appear early.

If you have a chance, go to the reviews and see what Desperate Derelict had to say about chapter 29. I'll say only this – it's a very good thing that review appeared at the end of February, not March. Otherwise I would've been sorely tempted to steer in that direction as an April Fool's posting.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story.

.

* * *

 _Richard,_

 _I'm tired._

 _If you're reading this, then you either beat me square or I decided that you've got a shot at using your skills the right way. Better than I have._

 _I won't say I made a mistake. I joined up for the right reasons. I was freed years ago, during one of my first missions. They recognized what I was and offered a place to train and use my skills. It took me a while to find out about you, though I thought of your mother often back then. But by the time I came back and learned what I'd left behind, I knew enough about our kind to know what might happen to you. I failed at staying away, though. Tried to help where I could._

 _My earliest operations convinced me I'd found my calling. I'm not cut out for working with others, but as a Gamma I could go anywhere, do anything. I spent years in Central and South America, even longer in Eastern Europe. Only you, with your imagination, might be able to conjure images of the wonders I've seen, the historical inflection points I've orchestrated._

 _I still remember what it was like, that initial rush after being freed. I remember my training officer fondly, owe him a debt I can't repay. That's why I picked Joseph for you. He was a good man, despite his unfortunate sibling. My dad died on the beach in Normandy. Thomas was the closest thing to a father I ever knew. I caused a small earthquake when a sniper killed him. Inches away and he was gone before I even turned my head._

 _I should've known it was a setup._

 _Time passes and missions blur. It was easy to play the lone wolf, the global fixer. It was easy taking orders, especially from a man who was the most powerful Gamma I've ever met. He rose through the ranks of the Agency and we rose with him. A small group of warriors for our way of life. I'm proud of some of the things we've accomplished._

 _Then the missions changed. Domestic work. We'd done our jobs too well, let people forget the need for us. Shakeups at the Agency led to our little group going private sector, but we kept on. Should've seen the signs, but I was still happy to fly solo. We had to take some side jobs to fund the work, nasty stuff. But I was back in-country, got to start keeping an eye on you. Thought we could bring you in if you proved to have the skills. Then they saddled me with an apprentice. Navy puke. Spoiled little brat before he was freed and worse after. I figured the boss would train him up then send him out on the rough stuff, make him prove himself._

 _It was Jonas who blew it. Slipped up after we left your boat. When you read this journal, you'll see that we have effective ways of extracting information from reluctant witnesses. And Jonas wasn't half the man his brother was, gave it up quickly. He never got over his resentment that he didn't have his brother's gift. Envy. Made him greedy. Weak._

 _Thomas wasn't killed by an enemy. His death was part of the succession plan, a way for me to inherit his power. The boss isn't dumb. It's like estate planning, letting wealth build across generations, growing Gammas who build the power then pass it on. The boss decided it was time for me to make my contribution – you would've been my last job. He sent my apprentice on a series of odd jobs to keep him away, then tasked Jonas with bringing me to where the boss would finish it. Alexis was Jonas' back-up plan to lure me back if I disappeared after killing you. Once on his turf, the boss would kill me. Then I'd be gone, the boss'd be even stronger, and the new guy'd take my place._

 _I'm tired, but I go out on my own terms._

 _I'm glad you're reading this. It means you've inherited something from your old man. When I fail to make some appointments, a lawyer will find you, but you've already got what matters. I'll tell you this – I wasn't leaving this clearing whether I won or lost. If I was the last one standing, I would've ended it in my clearing, leaving from my favorite place and making sure that any power I had to offer died with me._ _But you have to understand why I did it, why I pushed you. I had to know if you're ready. And if I didn't push you – if I just walked away and left you alone, then my apprentice or the boss would've come for you, and maybe Alexis, too._

 _When I don't file my mission report, the boss will check on you. He'll assume you're a Gamma if you survived my attack. He already has reason to kill you and your partner. Adding the promise of my power will make him desperate to finish you. It might even make him afraid of you._

 _You have two days – that was my deadline for this project. You might have less, depending on what he has my apprentice doing or if he figures out what happened to Jonas. He might recognize the pattern of knife wounds as quickly as you did._

 _I don't know if you'll be powerful enough to finish him. You have what I passed along and what you took from Joseph's killer, plus whatever else you built. I hope it's enough. Because if it isn't and he kills you, then all this was for nothing. I don't know if you'll be powerful enough, but if you're reading this, you might be strong enough to do what needs to be done._

 _I've never been one for words, you must've gotten that from Martha. But on the last day of my life I've got a few things left to say, even if I don't have the right. I'm proud of you, son, even if I can't take credit for anything you've done. Since your first publication, I've had one of your books with me at all times. Even had you sign three of them. Have fun trying to remember when that might've happened. And yes, you signed only my books, nothing else._

 _As much as I like your books, I like your life better. It looked like you were heading in the wrong direction for a while, but you got things straightened out. You're a good man. It's been a long time since anyone's had the balls to stand up to me, especially one who knew what I could do. But you did – stood there on the deck of that damned boat and called me on my bullshit. Bravest thing I've seen in a long time. And for someone who had no example to follow, you might be the best father I've ever seen. The only single parent who might've done a better job is Martha. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help._

 _Good luck, son. Everything I can offer on how to beat the boss is in this journal. Finish him, do it right, then walk away. Walk away from it all. Your detective is an extraordinary woman, but you need to let her go. You know what you are and you know what that means. If you love her you'll let her go, son, so she can be safe._

 _I was wrong with what I said before. I will admit I made a mistake. I'm sorry I left you alone, son, sorry I left Martha. You'd think that seeing how well you turned out would make this easier, but it doesn't. I've tried to do what little I can to make amends. There's a letter for Martha in the back of the journal, I'd appreciate it if you would pass it along to your mother, then maybe stick around in case she needs you afterward._

 _Live well, son, and I'll hope that a small part of me lives on in you._

 _Your father,_

 _Jackson_

* * *

 _._


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: This is not the end. More down below.

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* * *

 **Beckett**

"' _Live well, son, and I'll hope that a small part of me lives on in you_ ,'" Castle reads from his spot in the passenger seat of their rental car, head turned toward the window to hide his emotion from Beckett. "' _Your father_ ,'" his voice faltering almost to silence, "' _Jackson_.'"

 _Oh, Rick. To wonder about him for so long and then be taunted by such a short, tragic time together…_

"Please don't hide from me, Castle," Beckett begs, a little teary herself. Reaching across the console she lets her right hand fall on Castle's thigh as she waits for him to lower his left hand from where it's rubbing his cheek. "We're in this together, remember?"

Castle lets his hand fall to grab hers thankfully. He's still quiet, though, mulling over his father's letter.

"I'm sorry the circumstances put you against each other and I'm sorry that you didn't have more time together," she says quietly while trying to break through to him. "But you won, Rick."

" _Won_ ," Castle repeats in a tone that would suggest bitterness if it only had more energy. "He gave up. And winning means he's dead."

"That's not what I was talking about," Beckett says while squeezing his hand. "I don't think Jackson thought about any of _that_ ," she says while nodding at the letter still clutched in his other hand, "until he met you. Until you made him think about his life, about what he wanted. Trust me, Rick – if anyone's familiar with how you can shake up a life and somehow make everything look better, it's me. And you did that for him. You woke him up. Maybe even brought him back."

"Maybe," Castle allows, still lost in thought but a little lighter.

 _Come on, Castle – tell me this is just like Luke pulling Vader out of the dark_.

"There's no maybe about it," Beckett denies with a headshake and a smile. "He left you that letter. He wanted you to know how important you were to him. And it might not be an in-person apology, but he left a letter for your mom," she reminds him. "Remember how he was on the boat? He didn't seem like a guy who was interested in addressing past mistakes. Until you woke him up."

Castle sighs, though the exhalation seems to inflate him somehow, like the tension he released was replaced by some of his more natural optimism. "I hope you're right," he says, using his right hand to pat the hand he's already holding with his left. "He wasn't kidding, though – he's not really one for words. Talk about terrible writing," he says with a small huff, trying to show Beckett that he's working to cheer himself and maybe her, too.

 _No way, partner. Just because we're together doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you_.

"I wouldn't know," Beckett says as she risks a quick look at him from behind the wheel, eyebrow cocked to alert him that her Castle-nonsense-detector is spiking, "since I haven't heard the whole thing yet. Care to read the bit that you skipped over?"

"How…," Castle asks in bewilderment before giving up the question and shaking his head with a rueful grin that fades as he looks back at the letter. It's already a little careworn. Beckett suspects that it will be read many, many more times, though she's also sure it will find itself in a place of honor, displacing Castle's most beloved vintage comic to claim the protective covering that will preserve its words and spirits. "There's probably no point in trying to argue about this, is there?" Castle asks with a sigh.

"Nope," Beckett answers promptly. "No withholding evidence, partner. Let's hear the bit that's got you so upset."

Checking his phone to see if they've yet arrived at a place with reception on the chance that he'd have an excuse to dodge Beckett's question, he sighs at the unchanged 'No Service' reminder and turns back to the letter.

 _Come on, Rick, it can't be that bad. The letter is an unexpected bit of light, even with its rationalizations and time consistency issues. What's got you so worked up?_

"' _Finish him, do it right_ , _then walk away,_ '" Castle reads, and Beckett nods, remembering this part. But then he continues, adding the portion he'd skipped over when reading the letter to Beckett the first time. "' _Walk away from it all._ '" Castle pauses a moment for a breath and maybe a chance to decide again whether to continue."' _Your detective is an extraordinary woman, but you need to let her go. You know what you are and you know what that means. If you love her you'll let her go, son, so she can be safe._ '"

 _Damn you, Jackson. Of all the nonsense Castle didn't need to have reinforced. Well, forget it. We overcame your shadow in life and I'll be damned if I let you curse what we've worked so hard to build._

"Three things, Rick," Beckett says clearly, allowing no time for morose thoughts or the building of defenses. She rolls on, though it looks like Castle didn't plan to interrupt. "First, you know when he wrote this, right? Back when I was still your _secret weapon_. He didn't know about our connection or what I can do. So he's _wrong_. You can't make me a single degree safer by walking away."

"I know," Castle answers softly, squeezing her hand. Surprised, she lifts his hand to her mouth quickly, giving it the kiss she'd prefer to aim elsewhere if only they weren't so desperate to get to a place to call their family.

"I'm glad you know," Beckett says happily, "glad we don't have to fight about this." _But you still don't quite sound like you believe it._ "But I'm on a roll and am going to keep going anyway just to make sure you know it all," she says while casting him a challenging look, which actually makes him crack a small smile.

 _Hold on tight, partner, and listen up._

"Second, I'm definitely _less_ safe without you around," she says, squeezing his hand again. "We're _connected_ , remember?" she says while releasing his hand and making a fist with hers, waiting for him to give it a bump that harkens back to how he first described their connection in that terribly tense conversation at the loft that ended so well. "The best way for us to stay safe," she says while reclaiming his hand, "is for us to stay together. Right?"

Her question isn't a challenge, it's an actual inquiry and Castle notices. So he answers her with equal candor. "Right," he confirms, smile widening slightly. "Third?"

 _There we go, almost have my Castle back in this conversation._

"Third," Beckett answers, this time with challenge obvious in her voice, "is a question for you – what makes you think I'd let you walk away? Where can you go that I wouldn't follow? I'll save you the time – the answer's nowhere," she says with fierce determination. "There is _nowhere_ I wouldn't follow. Besides," she vows while cutting a quick, wild look at him, "what makes you think I'd let your feet touch the ground? Tough to walk away when your girlfriend levitates you into the air."

"Given how our last levitation session went," Castle says, sounding more like himself, "you just totally undermined your own argument there, partner. Considering how that ended, why on earth would I want to discourage you from lifting me up?"

"You're thinking about the session where we shed your wet clothes," Beckett laughs. "We can save that for when you behave yourself." After Castle's bark of a laugh, she adjusts her comments. "In a relative sense," she admits with an eye roll. "But you try to walk away and we'll reenact the part of the session that led to you getting hoisted into the air and dropped into the ocean."

"You're a little fierce when you're possessive," Castle marvels with a small smile.

"No, I'm a _lot_ fierce," Beckett corrects, giving his hand a squeeze that reinforces her point. "So, we'll treasure the rest of that letter, but we're going to ignore the bad advice. Sound good, partner?"

"What advice?" Castle asks facetiously.

"Exactly," Beckett answers happily, her answer punctuated by a chirp from the burner phone in the cupholder between them.

"Yes! Back to civilization!" Castle says happily as he releases Beckett's hand and reaches for the phone while Beckett shakes her head at the hopeless urbanite beside her. _We're definitely going to spend some time at the cabin, Rick. Time to learn how to appreciate some wonders of nature…_ she trails off, letting her mind take a wicked tangent from that thought.

"Voicemail," Castle interrupts in a disturbed voice while looking at the phone and trying to recall how to access the message. Finally getting to the right menu and activating the speaker phone, he holds it up between them.

" _Detective_ ," says Gates' voice. " _I have some questions about the Milton investigation. Call me_."

 _Oh, no._

"Milton," Castle says in a low voice. "That was the code word to call in immediately, right?" he asks, though he knows the answer.

 _That's what it means, but it's going to have to wait._

"Family first," Beckett answers instead, prompting a relieved, grateful nod from Castle, who starts dialing the number for the phone he left with his daughter.

" _Hello?_ " Alexis' hesitant voice has never sounded better to either of them.

"Hi Pumpkin," Castle answers thickly. "Kate and I are okay. We're coming home."

" _Oh, Daddy_ ," Alexis says as her voice breaks and her tears start. Castle looks devastated, listening to his daughter's sobs. After a few moments, Alexis' sounds of distress are lost to the bumps and shuffles of a phone being handed off.

" _Castle?_ " Ryan's voice takes over the call. " _You and Beckett okay?_ "

"We're fine, Kevin," Beckett answers quickly. "What are you doing with Alexis? What's wrong? What happened?"

" _Short story: they found the townhouse. A two-person team, one like Castle_." At this, Beckett and Castle look at each other, the mystery of Jackson's apprentice's mission now resolved but replaced by the new mystery of how their family was discovered. " _They tried to disguise themselves, but Alexis and Jim figured it out. Alexis took out the… special one and Javi took out the other_."

"Alexis?" Castle moans, terrified that his daughter faced a Gamma and wondering desperately how she survived.

" _She's okay_ ," Ryan reassures them both. Then, after a pause, he offers a tentative follow-up comment. " _She's like you_."

 _What in the hell happened? Alexis was freed while Castle was gone? That poor girl must be terrified._

"Where are you?" Castle asks, his desperation to see his daughter overriding his tactical common sense.

" _We're on our way to somewhere safe_ ," Ryan answers vaguely, sounding apologetic. " _We shouldn't keep this line open, though. Call in and we'll see you soon_ ," Ryan says. Castle looks distraught at the ending of the call, but Ryan anticipated his concern, so it's Alexis' voice that issues from the phone. " _Hurry, Daddy. I'm okay, but I could really use a hug_."

* * *

 **Castle**

"Feels surreal, just rolling into the precinct as if it's a normal afternoon," Castle whispers from the passenger seat of Beckett's cruiser, several car exchanges and almost two hours later.

 _I'm not sure I ever gave Beckett enough credit for her undercover work._

"Acting normal is the best defense right now," Beckett reminds him, "even if it feels wrong. Besides," she says while thinking back to a point made by Castle a few days ago, "the precinct is probably the safest place for Gates right now."

 _Not that it worked out so well for Bracken._

They sit in silence for a moment after Beckett parks the car and removes the key from the ignition. It feels odd to be sitting still and quiet after a day filled with movement. But they're both anxious to get moving, so each takes a deep breath as they reach for their doors simultaneously.

"Red alert, shields up," Castle murmurs, mostly as a joke.

 _No harm in raising a shield, just in case._

Seeing Murphy as they enter the building helps relax them, his blush at noticing their wave from the elevator doors reminding them of more playful days. The hug they share in the elevator on the way to Homicide helps more.

Gates notices them as soon as they emerge from the elevator. She's already on the move, directing them to follow her to the stairs. So, back down they go, this time to a windowless conference room on the second floor. All is done in silence.

As the door to the conference room closes, Gates shocks them both by giving Beckett a hug. The women are still in an embrace when an orange light blossoms above them.

"Just checking," Castle explains before going rigidly silent when Gates bestows a quick hug on him, too. Beckett's too shocked to even smirk.

"Can we be overheard?" Gates asks as she sits, breaking the partners from their stupor.

"No," Castle says as he sits down. "I've read some notes on how to make this," he says while pointing up and twirling his finger, "mess with electronic surveillance, and we certainly can't be overheard."

"Good," Gates answers. "Then first things first – our families are safe. They're in Atlantic City at one of the casinos."

"What?" Castle asks with surprise, and maybe a little jealousy.

"You should be proud, Mr. Castle, or perhaps ashamed. It was your daughter's suggestion," Gates says with an exaggeratedly prim tone and raised brow. "If she was thinking about somewhere public with many security cameras, then good for her. If she thought of it due to her familiarity with the casinos or the stories she's heard, then shame on you," she says in what Castle hopes is a teasing tone. "She and my children are too young to be on the casino floor, but they're tucked away in some rooms."

"What happened?" Castle asks, his happiness at the protective measures warring with his confusion about how his security plans for their loved ones went awry.

"I get the credit and the blame," Gates confesses. "Your team was uncomfortable with the notion of not being able to contribute to your effort, as you know," she says with a raised brow, causing slight blushes. "Mrs. Ryan's decision to join our family was not done solely for her protection. She had a prepaid cell with which she contacted her husband after you delivered her to the townhouse. Once you slipped away from Detective Esposito," she says with another penetrating look, "he joined Detective Ryan in standing guard over our families."

"But how did the perps find them?" Beckett asks, too interested in details to worry about the craftiness of her team or how they were hoodwinked by Jenny.

With a long sigh and a contrite look, Gates explains. "It's my fault," she confesses. "We collected my children's cellphones, but I didn't realize that my eldest took her phone back before we left the house. She has a _boyfriend_ ," the captain growls, "and couldn't bear the thought of being out of touch."

 _There's one young man who must have every security warning possible flagged on his file. Good luck getting into college or even food service now, buddy. And I would_ _not_ _want to be in Gates' daughter's shoes after that debacle_.

"I hope you weren't too hard on her," Castle surprises the women in the room with his intercession. "She couldn't possibly have appreciated the potential danger."

"All she needed to _appreciate_ ," Gates answers severely, "was the instruction from her parents."

 _Sorry, kid. I tried._

"Two men arrived at the townhouse, apparently looking for my family," Gates says in a voice that almost hides her terror. "It seems they didn't expect others to be there. They seem to have improvised and disguised themselves as the two of you when they realized that they'd first encounter your daughter," she says to Castle, "and your father," she says while turning toward Beckett.

 _Maybe our discussion of the safe word came in handy?_

"Though he did not have a clear shot, Detective Esposito knew the visitors were disguised thanks to the scope on his rifle," Gates explains. "Somehow, Alexis and Mr. Beckett saw through the ruse without assistance. Your daughter," she says to Castle, "acted as if the disguised man was actually her father. She approached him for a hug," Gates explains in a voice gone soft, which Beckett takes as a clear signal to reach out and comfort her partner, "and then she stabbed him in the heart."

Despite her effort to support Castle, Beckett gasps and covers her mouth with her free hand. Castle, meanwhile, just stares incredulously at Gates.

 _She had to kill someone who looked like me? My poor girl. No wonder she was freed._

"Your father," Gates surprises them both by continuing the story while turning to Beckett, "tackled Alexis to shield her from the other assailant."

 _Thank you, Jim._

Not pausing for Beckett's surprised look or of Castle's low groan, Gates finishes the narrative. "In doing so, he cleared the shot for Detective Esposito. With both assailants down, your team members evacuated the townhouse."

"Thank you," Castle says hoarsely. Immediately afterwards, Gates goes rigid and lifts a hand to her cheek, startled by a surprise, invisible thank-you kiss. Beckett repeats his sentiments, but opts for a thankful look and hand clasp without any kiss or other Gamma trick.

Anxious to move this conversation along, Gates starts asking the questions. "Now," she says abruptly, though the effect is mitigated by the hand still on her cheek, "I take it your trip was successful?"

"Yes," Castle answers quietly, sadly. "We won't see my father again."

* * *

 **Victoria Gates**

"I'm sorry, Mr. Castle," Gates whispers in condolence.

 _What a horrific day – to learn that your daughter was attacked while you were trying to survive a fight to the death with your father._

"Are you…," Gates trails off in unaccustomed discomfort. "I'm sorry, I know this sounds ridiculous and maybe insensitive, but are you stronger now?"

With a sad smile, Castle nods. "We'll see if it's strong enough for the last fight."

"The last fight?" Gates asks, realizing that despite her brave words yesterday, she'd not really expected them to return for the fight against Bracken's partner.

"Yes," Beckett answers. "One fight left, and we need to talk about what happens next."

 _There's something in your tone, Detective, that makes me think something else is going on. Something I'm not going to like._

"You know who it is, don't you?" Gates asks, head swiveling back and forth between the Detective and her partner.

"Do you remember the first time we surprised you with a meeting like this, where Kate told you a story?" Castle asks, causing Gates to focus on him as she nods hesitantly.

 _Obviously. It wasn't that long ago and given what we discussed, I doubt I'll ever forget it._

"We asked if we could trust you," Beckett picks up the narrative. "We risked our place at the precinct, at least. Maybe even our freedom."

 _Don't tell me we have trust issues now, after everything we've already been through._

"Just as I did when we talked about Jonas' homicide," Gates agrees, starting to look concerned and perhaps a little affronted.

"This isn't about trust, not really," Castle pipes up again, noting in Gates' posture the same tells that she's displayed in previous conversations where he's irritated her. "It's about the difference between what's legal and what's just."

"You want me to condone illegality?" Gates asks, looking between the partners. "I'm here to salve moral objections? I thought you knew me better than that."

 _What's terrifying is how tempting it is to just turn you loose. Which is probably how Bracken's partner got started._

"What we'd like, sir," Beckett says in a voice devoid of challenge and sounding more like an earnest student, "is someone to evaluate what we propose to do while considering everything at stake. We trust your judgment. We're considering terrible things because we think they're the least bad option, but will you provide some objective judgment?"

 _You two are quite the double act. Last time it was Mr. Castle who impressed me with his appeal to me. You, Detective Beckett, are a wonder. If we all get out of this, it might be time to take a more direct hand in your career development._

"Thank you for your faith in me," Gates says, touched by their trust even while trying not to show it. "Let's consider everything that follows purely hypothetical, a free ranging discussion without need of disclaimers. What do you want to do?"

"We know who Bracken's partner is," Beckett says as she builds her answer, "and we know where he is."

"DC?" Gates hazards a guess, causing Castle to chuckle.

"That was my guess, too," he confesses, "but we were too late. No, our boy came back home to the perfect job."

"We know who's working for him, many of his illegal activities," Beckett continues. "It's a daunting operation, including drug trafficking, extortion, money laundering, and arms dealing."

"So he'll be well protected, by arms and attorneys," Gates anticipates.

"It's much worse than that," Castle answers. "We know he's like my father and I, so showing up to arrest him could have catastrophic consequences, especially since it won't be in the middle of nowhere, but right in downtown Manhattan."

 _A pitched battle in this middle of the city?!_

"It's unlikely to come to that," Castle says to quickly assuage Gates' look of alarm. "Unlike what happened with my father, this battle will be quiet. We might know his weakness. If so, I can stop him from ravaging the city. If not, he'll kill me."

 _I can't believe I'm saying this, but I almost miss the carefree playboy, if that persona was ever real. Better that than such a stark discussion of your mortality._

"But even if I can overpower him, what does that buy us?" Castle continues, surprising Gates. "Imagine I can negate his abilities, permanently," Castle says a little awkwardly. "He's still the head of a massive criminal enterprise. He could orchestrate a massive, conventional killing spree from prison, assuming we even managed to convict him."

"And that's another problem," Beckett picks up. "What we have isn't admissible, isn't enough to secure warrants. And we don't have time. At best, we have until the day after tomorrow before he knows that his attempt to kill us failed and that his assassin is dead. Then he'll come for all of us while protecting his operation. And it might happen earlier, based on what happened with our families."

 _Less than two days? Even with warrants, we couldn't mount an operation of that size so quickly without tipping our hands. And even if we just target the boss, we're in trouble._

"Assuming your information is accurate, then we have another problem," Gates interjects. "Imagine we could arrest the boss, isolate him, and convict him. It's unlikely that an operation of the size you describe would simply collapse. It might fracture, but in some ways that would make it more difficult to eradicate." Noticing that they're both nodding along, Gates realizes that she's treading the same ground as her charges. "So, what did you have in mind?"

"Hypothetically?" Castle answers softly, just to soften the word that follows. "Assassination."

" _No_ ," Gates answers immediately and resolutely. "Never."

"And the alternative?" Castle asks. "We are dead – us, our families, anyone we care about – if this isn't finished two days from now."

"So we get help," Gates rallies, the familiar return of an argument with Castle invigorating her.

"From whom?" Castle asks with a bite. "Bracken, Bracken's partner, my father – they worked for the government. Who can we trust?"

"So we find someone else," Gates parries, though she knows it's a weak argument.

Beckett chuffs out a laugh. "In two days? There are two members of law enforcement outside of this room I'd trust with this, and _that's it_ ," Beckett says fiercely. "And they're protecting our families. So, how do we find people we can trust, people who won't force Castle into service or take our daughter to control us?"

"So you'd just take out the boss and leave the rest of it?" Gates asks, angry and frustrated.

"No, we'd leave them to you," Beckett answers calmly. "You won't have warrants, but you'll know who to watch. We deal with the boss and you have independent, segmented teams in place to watch the fallout."

"You take him alive," Gates commands, thinking of her options. "That's the only way this works."

"No," Castle answers directly. "There are two choices here. We all run – immediately and completely, without the hope of ever coming back – or we make sure he can't hurt people now or in the future."

 _I can't believe I'm even having this conversation. The answer should be obvious – we do this by the book. It's the only way to ensure that extra abilities don't corrupt, that we don't start taking shortcuts and ending up causing widespread heartache and injustice._

 _But aren't I allowed to be selfish, too? Do I have to sacrifice myself and my family for this principled stand? And what about all the people who would die at the hands of this operation after we arrested the boss, assuming we could?_

"What about that method you've mentioned, where you just take away someone's abilities?" Gates asks in desperation, looking for middle ground.

"We have weaknesses – hidden, private, and specific to the individual. Targeting that weakness can destroy a person's access to their abilities. I've only seen it happen once," Castle says with a voice going low, "and the results were horrible. Instantaneous psychotic break. But," he says peremptorily, raising a finger, "I'm not sure I know his weakness. I have my father's best two guesses. So, the most optimistic case is that I've got a fifty-fifty chance of that option even being possible, even assuming I'm strong enough if I guess right."

Gates mulls this news, still hoping for another solution. "But if you knew his weakness and could overpower him, he might still be okay? You've only seen the consequences once. It might be different with him, right?"

"Say it was," Beckett answers for the partners, clearly showing that they've thought about this possibility, too. "That's still no better. If there's no psychotic break, then he'll be lucid, dangerous, and completely able to run his operation or exact his revenge from jail, assuming we can keep him there. If he breaks, we're no better. If his mind admits periods of clear thinking, then we're at risk again. If his mind is broken, then your solution may be the least humane option."

 _Should I feel better by condemning someone to an asylum or a grave?_

"I don't like this," Gates confesses freely. "I'm terrified about what this means, what we might be tempted to do with this power. What happens next time we're pressed for time? Or the next time we're convinced someone is guilty but we can't break them in interrogation? How can we tell if we're breaking the rules or just creating our own?"

"Those are all good questions," Castle admits, "and thinking like that is why we wanted to confide in you. My answer is simple – I trust the two of you. If you can find another way to keep people safe, I'm all ears," he says earnestly. "But I can't compromise the safety of my family. I want to do this with your blessing. I want to be able to come back to the precinct. I want things to go back to normal, maybe even to forget what I can do altogether. But that's impossible with him out there, knowing who we are and planning to kill us. So, if I have to go alone," he says as he lifts a hand in a quelling gesture to Beckett, "I'll do whatever I think most protects my family."

 _And there is little doubt that you consider Detective Beckett to be family. I think she'd hurt you if you didn't._

Silence reigns for a few minutes as each considers their options and the magnitude of the actions they're considering. It's Gates who finally breaks their terrible contemplations and silent prayers.

 _God, please let this not be a terrible mistake._

"Detective – Kate," Gates says as she turns to her detective, "Rick," she says, stumbling over the name. "I don't see a better alternative, but I'm going to keep trying to come up with one until the minute we have to move. For now, tell me what you have in mind."

* * *

 **Castle**

Fifteen minutes later, Gates departs with a spinning head, a troubled conscience, and a gameplan. She has a busy night ahead of her. Castle and Beckett, alternatively, simply need to try to relax and prepare for one more showdown, planned for early afternoon tomorrow.

 _And what's the best way to relax? Well, maybe second-best? Beckett-teasing._

"So," Castle says with a raised brow and pointed tone. "' _Our daughter_?'"

"Our what?" Beckett asks as she stands and stretches, popping her back and rolling her neck in an attempt to relieve some tension.

 _I couldn't believe Gates missed this, but you, too?_

Holding the conference room door open for her, Castle takes his place at her side with a hand on her lower back. "When you were talking about our two-day deadline, you asked how we'd keep people from kidnapping ' _our daughter_ ' Alexis to control us."

"I did?" Beckett asks in surprise as she stops in place in the middle of the corridor.

"You did," Castle confirms, face inscrutable.

"I'm sorry, Rick," Beckett says quietly. "I didn't mean to overstep," she says while blushing and looking down.

 _Seriously?_

"Are you kidding me?" Castle asks in wonder. Misinterpreting his comment, Beckett's posture slumps further as she studies her toes. "Kate," he says in an intimate voice, "You know how important Alexis is to me. You know how much I care about her. I would be _honored_ to share her with you," he promises as he watches Beckett's head slowly rise, a tentative smile in place. "It's really her decision. I think we should talk to her about it, make sure she's comfortable with it. But for me?" he asks, watching her smile bloom. "My heart races when I think of our upcoming days together as a family."

Beckett's radiant smile brightens the hallway, until the drifting of her eyes to his lips introduces a dark ripple. "You callin' me a cardiac event, Castle?"

"You bet," he answers happily, letting his hand run up and down her back before settling into a socially-acceptable location as she escorts her toward the stairwell. "A cute myocardial infarction."

"That was terrible," Beckett groans as they reach the stairs, shaking her head to hide her grin.

"Bad jokes – a great way to relieve tension," Castle says while taking a deep breath.

"I know a better way," Beckett says with a raised brow and a Gamma pet that causes a yelp and a sudden acceleration of their departure.

 _So much for 'no sex before a fight'!_

* * *

A/N2: I thought this would be the last chapter, but it was starting to get too long. So, even though this is mostly a conversation chapter, it'll set up the conclusion. This way, I've got a little more room in case any conversations run long in the next (and last, even though I've said that before) chapter.

I'll work hard to finish this soon. My actual job is crazy busy; it's tournament time; and Garrae, WRTRD, GeekMom, and Aalon are burying us in chapters (nice problem to have!), but I'll get this finished somehow.


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters used in this story. As for other influences, please see the author's note at the end of chapter two.

A/N: Down below.

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* * *

 **Beckett**

"Here you are, Detective," the pretty young secretary says as she holds open the door and admits Beckett and Castle into the Director of Security's office. Surprised by the unexpected interruption, the director spins in his desk chair to face them, turning away from the computer table beside his desk and putting his back to the wall of security monitors at the far wall. He's an attractive man, still fit and trim even in what appears to be his approach to retirement age. He's dressed casually, though it doesn't take a discerning eye or deep knowledge of fashion to see that his outfit easily costs more than most suits they've passed in the hallways.

The director is about to chastise his secretary for the interruption when she surprises him by exiting silently and without his leave, drawing the doors closed behind her.

"I'm sorry, but I'm far too busy to deal with interruptions today," the director says in annoyance, his face curdling further as one uninvited visitor takes a seat in front of him while the other meanders through the office, inspecting the decorations while paying particular attention to the photos on the wall. "I'll have to schedule a time," he says with admirable poise, "to deal with you."

"You too busy smuggling drugs, laundering money, gunrunning, or ordering assassinations?" Castle asks disinterestedly as he ranges around the office.

 _It's like the last three years have been practice for this interview. Castle knows his role perfectly._

The director, about to speak, let's out a low growl instead. He's still, but glowering, focusing on Castle with a frightening intensity. When nothing happens, he can't help but utter "How?"

 _He's so strong. I'm not sure how long we can hold him back._

"What's the matter?" Castle asks from the far side of the office, where he's bent at the waist to closely inspect another photo on the wall, hiding from the director ( _but not me_ ) the strain he feels at keeping the director in check. "Feeling a little _disconnected_? Or maybe you're feeling a tightness in your chest, almost as if someone's got a grip on your heart?"

"I was right," the director says with quiet pride, his eyes shifting to Beckett. "I suspected you were a Gamma. You gave yourself away by surviving the sniper. But you don't know who you're messing with," he says with quiet venom. "You're not the only one with a secret," he ends with a shout.

Having expected a wild explosion of power to punctuate his comment, the director looks flummoxed when nothing happens.

 _How feeble you must feel now, all the more pathetic for your impotence._

"Never been blocked before?" Beckett asks from her place, not even doing him the favor of looking at him and instead studying the wall of security monitors behind him.

"Enjoy yourselves now, because it won't last," the director says quietly, almost conversationally as he tries to regroup. "You and your pet will regret your arrogance. That's the beauty of Gamma interrogations – we can take you to the brink of death and then bring you back, only to repeat the process over and over until you beg for release. And trust me," he says while glancing at them both with a dark look that betrays his attempt at dispassion, "you'll have to beg for a very long time."

"Nice speech. You don't think anyone's coming to your rescue, though, do you?" Castle scoffs, his back now turned to the director as his perusal of the office continues. "Your secretary inspected the document she thought was a warrant. She's quite concerned about what you might've done to justify such a broad scope," he says with a laugh as he moves to the next picture frame. "And if you think that any surveillance or summoning devices in this office remain operational, you're irrationally optimistic."

 _That's right, you've underestimated us. Now we'll see how you handle a direct challenge without your bodyguards around._

"So you're a Gamma, too. Interesting," the director says, growing more comfortable in this discussion, or at least pretending so. "A union of two freed Gammas. The offspring of such a coupling might be exceptionally useful. In addition to the daughter you've already supplied, of course," he says with a cutting look at Castle.

 _Don't bite, Castle. Don't let him use Alexis to distract you._

"It's been a while since finishing school," Castle says from where he's inspecting yet another photo, "but I'm pretty sure that referring to guests as breeding stock is generally considered poor etiquette."

 _As the director falls back on his usual demeanor, so does Castle._

"Don't pretend to be offended," Beckett snarks in reply. "We all know you revel in any circumstance where you might be referred to as 'stud.'"

Having turned to catch the director's moue of distaste, Castle gives Beckett a quick eyebrow waggle before returning to his inspection of the photos. "Should we let him know that there's no point in stalling?"

"I don't know," Beckett asks while watching the director's face. "He might talk voluntarily while trying to buy time for his rescuers."

This seems to catch Castle's attention. Finishing his inspection of the last photo, he saunters over to the other guest chair and flops into it. "Kind of disrespectful if you ask me. Sitting here hoping that Jackson will save your ass when you don't even have a picture of him."

 _Been a while since you've been interrogated, director? You forget that adopting a blank face is as much of a reaction as a flinch_.

"Don't forget the apprentice, or his helper," Beckett reminds her partner, getting a nod in return.

"Congratulations on your reconnaissance," the director sneers. "Any other party tricks to help us pass the time?"

"I prefer stories to party tricks," Castle confesses. "Why don't you tell me about this sweet job you've got here? Talk about letting the fox guard the henhouse."

When his suggestion provides no response, Castle fills the silence.

 _As usual._

"You must've laughed yourself silly when the investment banks started hiring from the CIA to help them ferret out rogue traders," Castle speculates. "There you were – bounced from the Agency after doing your jobs too well. Why not see what the private sector has to offer? And then an I-bank wants your expertise?" Castle laughs. "What a perfect base of operations. Convenient funding source, too."

"' _Private battles require private funds_ ,'" Beckett quotes, causing an immediate flare of recognition from the director.

 _Sounds familiar, does it? Was that a favorite line of Jackson's, or was it something he learned from you?_

"He doesn't seem very talkative," Castle says conversationally to Beckett. "We've asked nicely – maybe it's time to focus his attention?"

"We should probably offer him one last chance," Beckett speculates doubtfully. "So, when did you learn that Bracken killed my mother?"

"You're both dead, you realize?" the director answers with a question. "I've grown weary of your interference and your tiresome theatrics. Annoy me further and you families will go first. While you watch."

 _This sounds a lot like 'you knew the cost of drawing attention.' Time to learn some new lines._

"Would you like the honors?" Castle asks, trying to offer support while maintaining their united front.

"You could've given justice to my mother," Beckett clearly articulates while staring at the director, a prosecutor making closing arguments. "You could've left us alone. You have no one to blame for this but yourself," she says with only a light warble. Extracting her necklace, Beckett lovingly rubs the ring that she carries in remembrance of her mother.

The director continues to look defiant, even as the chiming sound rings out. Unlike what happened at Diane Economides' apartment, though, there is no sickening crunch at the end, no eruption of blue mist. Instead, the director lurches to his feet and thrusts his arms out in attack.

As they'd discussed, neither Beckett nor Castle respond, instead staring in silence at the director, who looks utterly bewildered when nothing happens. After another fruitless attack, Castle lifts an arm. The director is knocked back into his seat as his face contorts from confusion to raw hatred as he finds himself pinned in place again.

"You didn't want to talk about Kate's mother," Castle prompts, again grunting at the effort of keeping the director in place. "So, why don't we talk about my father?"

"I don't know anything about your father, except that I'll enjoy disemboweling him in front of you," the director growls in dark promise.

"Is it odd, so close to your end, to realize how little you knew?" Castle asks as he reaches into his shirt as if repeating Beckett's actions by drawing out a necklace. Instead of a ring, though, there are dog tags on Castle's chain. "You knew my father very well. You recruited him. Mentored him. Planned to kill him. And sent him to kill his son."

"His son?" the director asks in disbelief.

"My father's gone," Castle acknowledges. "He made his choices and carries the weight of his sins. But he saw right, at the end. You wonder why you haven't been able to break free? He's here now," Castle says while tapping his chest over his heart. "And he told me where he thought your nexus might be. He had two guesses. But it was Beckett who figured it out, figured out how you've survived so long, how you could enlist Gammas without fear of betrayal. Figured out how we were perfectly created to bring this to an end."

 _Time to peel away the secrets you hold so dear._

"Was he your first murder?" Beckett asks calmly from her chair. "Your brother?"

The director gawps at her before steeling his expression.

"I work homicide, as you know. I've never had an _in utero_ case before. But how else to explain a Gamma with an extra nexus?" she wonders aloud.

 _And so the Gamma with an extra nexus meets the Gamma who was split in half._

"My father thought he had a fifty-fifty chance at containing you, at best," Castle picks up the discussion. "But we didn't have to choose – we each clutched a nexus as soon as we entered. You sat there thinking we were sandbagged, that you'd make your move once we committed to an attack. You've grown so arrogant that you didn't even consider that we had you completely contained before you said a word."

"You're both hypocrites," the director charges, still undaunted. "You sit there clinging to your moral high ground despite coming in here to murder me. Playing with illusory warrants, whining about justice – you're here for vengeance. Naïve vigilantes playing at avenging angels."

 _Perhaps we're damning ourselves with our decision. But it's one we've agreed to take to protect the people we love, and we'll pay the price._

"We all have to answer for our actions," Beckett replies in a surprisingly calm voice, "in this life or the next. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I want vengeance as well as justice. But I _know_ I want to protect the innocent – it's been my life's work since Bracken killed my mother, and I won't sit here and let you tear more lives apart."

"And you actually think you can finish me?" the director asks incredulously. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"No, we don't," Beckett replies, prompting knit brows from the director and an amused huff from Castle. "You've lived your life in the shadows, pulling strings that topple regimes and upend lives. And all in secrecy – we all know the name on your door is just another fabrication, a convenient diversion, a trip-line to alert you to when people are looking at you too closely. So, no, we don't know your name. We don't want to know it, don't need to play your game. To us you're just another nameless evil."

"And yet nameless threats are often the most terrifying," the director challenges. "Besides, names have power. Unlike you, I've guarded mine well."

"Names only have power when they mean something," Castle answers calmly.

"Says the man who had to change his," the director scoffs.

"Exactly," Castle agrees. "My name means something. When I'm gone it will still mean something, because of my family and because of my books," he says without attempting to hide his proud smile. "Yours will mean nothing. Once we leave this office and you're gone, there'll be no proof that you were ever here. All your life, all your accomplishments – gone like a puff of blue mist."

"You and I both know that won't happen," the director says while turning to Castle. "I know you both better than you can imagine. Well enough to know that you lack the resolve to be true players. Well enough to know that you need to know the _story_ ," he says with a tight-lipped smile. "Tell me, Mr. Castle – after I'm gone, who answers the questions about your heritage, your father's legacy? Who explains how we've protected this country for decades? Who knows the true history of the Cold War and what followed?"

"I was so disappointed by my first meeting with my father," Castle confesses, eyes going distant as he starts a grim narrative that might not even be related to the director's taunts. "I'd imagined meeting him thousands of times, in thousands of different scenarios. None included him assassinating an elected official. I'd even imagined that he might be proud of me, proud of what I've accomplished. But right from the start, he was telling me that I wasn't strong enough."

 _Oh, Castle. You deserved so much better. And this guy doesn't deserve to hear any of this._

"It wasn't until yesterday that I realized what he meant, where he was pointing me," Castle confesses. "Even during our fight I thought he was talking about my power as a Gamma. But power is not strength. I didn't understand until he was broken and bleeding, taking his last breath while I held on tight and did nothing. My own father – of whom I'd dreamed my entire life – was dying and I didn't try to heal him," Castle confesses in a low voice. "His final lesson."

 _I didn't even think about trying to heal Jackson. Did Castle? Is he upset because he didn't think to help his father, because he couldn't, or because he decided not to?_

Unable to watch him founder and knowing that a show of support is necessary, both to comfort her partner and to flaunt her humanity in front of the director, Beckett stands and walks behind Castle's chair. Being careful to stay out of Castle's line of sight to their enemy, Beckett bends to kiss his cheek tenderly before standing silently behind him, hands on his shoulders, covering his back literally and figuratively.

"Your father had strength, boy," the director growls in response. "You don't. I know your story. Your life is an ongoing series of mistakes, of people walking over you and you happily bringing them back to hurt you again. _Strength_ ," he scoffs. "You'd better hope for power, because that's the best you'll do. And good luck holding onto it."

"You're wrong," Beckett interjects before Castle can parry, squeezing his shoulders to emphasize her belief in him. "Rick's stronger than you can imagine. Strong enough to build a life, to protect and save the people around him."

"We'll see about that. By now," the director says ominously while casting his eyes to the clock on the wall, "there are fewer people around you to protect."

"You'd think a criminal mastermind would pay better attention," Castle complains with his head cocked to the side, getting a nod from his partner. "Weren't you listening?" Castle asks the director. "I don't have his dog tags to prove it, but dad's apprentice didn't survive his attempt to collect the Gates family. Neither did his companion. And if they were supposed to target our family, too," Castle says with more bite, "they never got that far."

The director takes this news stoically, trying not to react, though his face flushes as he surges against the barrier they've placed on his Gamma abilities. Beckett grunts and Castle's forehead is beaded in sweat, but the director remains firmly in place.

 _Is that fear I see in your eyes? Starting to finally accept your situation? Held down, cut off from your abilities, and alone. Isn't it about time you start trying to deal?_

"Perhaps you are stronger than I appreciated," the director admits, his calm tone at odds with the fierce look still on his face. "If you're as strong as your father and his squadmate, you could be formidable with the right training. If you think you've seen wonders," he says in a voice of awe, "you haven't even imagined the vistas available to us."

 _Here it comes._

"You were always meant to take your father's place," the director says to Castle before raising his head to look at Beckett, "and merit is always recognized. There's a better end for us than a messy battle here in my office. Not when our potential is limited only by our imaginations."

This appeal, too, the partners anticipated. The clumsy inevitability of a cornered ringleader trying to bargain his way out of trouble is so trite that Castle would veer from the hint of such a plot point in his writing. And in this context, the director's offer doesn't warrant an answer. But it does provoke a response.

For the second time in this encounter, a chiming sound rings out. This time, though, it's joined by a second note. Together, they almost form a minor chord, aching and melancholy. The director shifts his gaze back and forth between both partners, a look of desperate determination showing that he's fighting with everything he has to protect his Gamma abilities.

"If you do this you're dead," he groans out. "People know who I am, know I'm a Gamma. You do this and they'll know what you are. You'll be hunted and hounded for the rest of your life. It doesn't have to be this way!"

 _Too late._

The only answer to his plea is the sound of his hopes, dreams, schemes, and aspirations shattering as the chiming tones suddenly end with a hideous, ear-splitting crack.

 _Now for the hardest part._

When Jackson died, Beckett and Castle imbibed so much power that they were literally knocked over; falling here would leave the director enraged, unconstrained, and maybe unhinged. So as they watch the blue mist leaking from him meander towards them, the partners brace themselves to withstand the rush while keeping him under control.

But whether due to focus, terrible anger, or the elevated base of their own power, the process is less overwhelming this time. Shocked by their ability to absorb the additional power without duress, Beckett thinks of a question with troubling ramifications.

 _Was Jackson strong enough to take the director by himself?_

"I'll dance on your graves," the director growls while sounding unhinged, a feral look on his face revealing his rage and suggesting he's lost at least a portion of sanity. "I'll burn your houses to the ground. I'll bathe in the blood of your family," he seethes in a building fury. "I'll find every woman you've ever known," he says while focusing on Castle, "and slaughter each and every one of their children just in case they're related to you. I'll erase every Castle from the face of this planet."

"The odd thing about Gammas," Castle offers quietly while ignoring the threat, "is that we only disappear at death if there's another Gamma nearby. Of course, if a Gamma has already lost his nexus," he continues to explain while the director growls again, "then his body will remain even if killed by a Gamma. So, anyone who knew you were a Gamma will think that you weren't near any when you died, since your body will remain."

Pausing for a moment to lift his hands to cover Beckett's hands on his shoulders, Castle prepares for the end. "My father wanted to know if I was strong enough to see this to the end, to protect my family and ensure that when you fall, it all falls with you," Castle replies softly. "Strong enough to live with the guilt. I know you're still dangerous, even without your powers. And for as much pain and heartache as you've caused, I'm still sorry for what has to happen next."

 _I'm here with you, partner. You can do this – just like the pipes in Diane's apartment._

Just as he's about to issue another dire threat, the director blanches and clutches at his chest.

 _That's my cue._

"Help!" Beckett shouts as she finally releases her hold on Castle's shoulders and rushes to the doors, wrenching them open to see the secretary approaching. "Call 911! I think he's having a heart attack!"

The ensuing commotion pulls several passing executives into the office, filling the small room with witnesses who can later confirm that despite the heroic efforts of the bank's employees and the quick arrival of emergency medical personnel, sometimes you just can't fight nature.

 _And now, the last piece of plausible deniability._

"Hello, sir," Beckett speaks into her cellphone as the EMTs drape a sheet over the director and prepare to wheel him out. "I'm afraid our suspect suffered what appears to be a coronary event during our interview. Despite the efforts of the EMTs, he didn't survive."

" _I'm sorry to hear that,_ " Gates answers honestly. " _Best to come in and file your report._ "

* * *

 **Jim Beckett**

Their small group clusters in the lounge, all trying to pretend as if they have any interest in the inane movie on the widescreen television. Over the course of their stay here, everyone has drifted off to the bedrooms in an attempt to sleep, but the need for companionship brings them back to the central lounge all too quickly. If the atmosphere at the townhouse was tense, this is oppressive.

"Dear Lord!" Jenny exclaims as her husband's cellphone erupts in a piercing ring that jolts them all, even the detectives. Rather than squeak, though, Alexis trembles.

 _You poor girl,_ Jim thinks of Alexis, who's sitting on the couch next to him, with Martha to her other side. Reaching out, he puts a gentle hand on her forearm, chuckling to himself when he sees Martha doing the same thing.

"Hello?" Ryan answers tentatively, looking tense. On the other side of the room, Esposito's hand drifts to his holster while he eyes the gun case on the floor near the entertainment stand. The smile on Ryan's face as he listens to the captain warms the room and convinces them all to breathe again.

"Yes, sir," Ryan says gratefully before ending the call. Looking around at the collected faces, he stops on Alexis. "Go pack up – the bus back home leaves in two minutes."

"They're safe?" Martha asks, the hand not soothing Alexis clutching her heart.

"They're safe," Ryan confirms. "Well, as safe as they can be while facing Gates' paperwork." Jenny's elbow to his side reminds him that the rest of the Gates family is sitting right there, with Gates' husband casting a prim, raised-brow look that looks eerily familiar. "Sorry," Ryan mumbles, prompting chuffs of laughter.

Then, suddenly, the room bursts into frenetic motion as everyone who'd been in hiding suddenly looks forward to returning to life as normal.

 _Except that someone's normal is going to be radically different._

"Alexis?" Jim asks, noting that Rick's daughter seemed to be dawdling, waiting with arms crossed and a distant look on her face for Martha to clear the room they shared before entering herself. "Will you help me pack?"

Rolling her eyes, Alexis turns to look at Jim without moving her feet, inspecting him in profile.

"Really? You Becketts are the most fiercely independent people I know. I very much doubt you need help packing," Alexis says in an indulgent voice as she enters the smallest room of the suite where Jim has set up. Sure enough, either out of optimism or a desire to be ready, Jim's already fully packed. This warrants another inquisitive look from Alexis.

"I'm not going to ask if you're okay," Jim says kindly as he sits on the corner of his bed, gesturing to a small chair that doubles as a luggage stand. "Because I'm not, and I'd be a little surprised if you are."

 _You don't have to talk, Alexis, but maybe I can get you to listen._

Alexis doesn't question his statement, instead lowering herself carefully into the chair. She's uncrossed her arms, but her hunched shoulders and lowered head clearly convey her discomfort, as it has since they arrived in Atlantic City.

"Have you ever seen a picture of my wife?" Jim asks, trying to break through and get Alexis engaged.

"Just one," Alexis replies, "briefly. It was a head-shot on Dad's monitor."

 _As part of their investigation into her murder, no doubt. But maybe it's time to finally let that go. If Katie and Rick are on their way back, then it must finally be over. Time to focus on the light, not the dark._

Pulling out his wallet, Jim opens the accordion-style section and pulls out two pictures from their protective covering. He stretches to give the first one to Alexis.

"She's beautiful," Alexis murmurs, and Jim smiles with pride.

"Which one – Katie or Jo? That was taken at Christmas, just before Jo left us," Jim explains, hardly tripping over the last two words. "This might've been the only two-minute window when Jo and Katie weren't arguing," he laughs. "Take it from someone who's been there – go easy on your old man on your first trip back from college. And don't worry," Jim assuages with a smile, "I'll talk to him, too. I learned the hard way that the last things a college woman wants to hear when she comes home are questions and advice about how she's living her life away from home."

"Good luck," Alexis mumbles, imagining anyone trying to curb her father's curiosity and innate need to protect her.

 _There's a hint of your smile._

"This one," he says as he passes over the second photo, "is the one that I look at when I'm missing her the most." This time he can't help but choke up a little.

"I can see where Kate gets some of her good looks," Alexis says gently while holding the photo reverently. "And her eyes – that's why you like this picture, isn't it?"

Jim nods silently, glad that Alexis noticed but still trying to get himself calmed down. After all, he's the one who's supposed to be providing comfort. _Blast that troublesome Castle ability to find and soothe exposed emotional nerves. No wonder Katie fell for Rick._

"Yes," Jim finally confesses. "It's her eyes that ground me. That help me remember. That still haunt me to this day," he says while pasting on a brave smile, which Alexis sees right through. "It's why I looked at Kate's eyes back at the townhouse. They are what told me, immediately, that the person there wasn't really my daughter."

"Me, too," Alexis answers in a low voice. "Dad's always talking, using his writing skills to fill the air with clever words – sometimes past the saturation point," she says with a small laugh, which Jim joins. "But his eyes say more than his mouth. That's how I knew."

Aside from his nodding, Jim sits still and quiet, letting them both think about their beloved family members. Finally, he reaches out a hand. Misunderstanding his intent, Alexis hands the photos back. He drops those on the bed beside him and then reaches out again. This time, Alexis understands and clasps his hand.

 _We can do this, Alexis. We can get you back in your father's arms without a flinch or shadow of doubt._

"This's what I'm going to do," Jim says after giving her hand a squeeze. "I'm still a little nervous about seeing Katie after what happened in the townhouse. But I need to see her," Jim says fervently, getting a sympathetic nod from Alexis. "So, I'm going to focus on her eyes. As long as I can see into her eyes, I'll know it's really her. I'll know it's really my girl."

A knock on the door disturbs them, but their hands remain linked. "Sorry," Esposito calls from the doorway, "but we need to roll."

"Of course," Jim says while he stands, still holding Alexis' hand. Esposito recognizes the power of the moment and turns quickly to restore their limited privacy.

"Ready to go?" Jim asks as he gives a light tug on Alexis' hand and then helps her rise. He's shocked when Alexis moves in for a hug.

"I'm ready," she says after a few long moments in his embrace. "Thank you, Grandpa."

* * *

 **Castle**

"I don't suppose there's any point in telling you to settle down?" Beckett asks with some indulgence as Castle hovers around. The food that they ordered when Gates finally forced them out of the precinct has arrived, and Castle's already fussed with the table setting three different times. At present, he's toying with one end of the _Welcome Home!_ banner that he already had in the linen closet for some reason.

 _I'll settle as soon as I see our family again. Okay, maybe not right away, but before then? No way._

"Babe, it looks perfect," Beckett says in reference to the sign. "And the food's all set. We've still got a little time – they're still on their way from dropping off the Gates family. Come sit with me?" she asks while holding out a hand, sounding a little girlish and looking at him with wide, inviting eyes.

"No fair," Castle whines. "You know I can't say no to that."

Laughing, Beckett seizes his hand and pulls him toward the sofa. "I promise I'll try not to abuse my powers," she jokes, making light of a situation that caused such duress yesterday. "But I need some time with you before everyone arrives," she says as she sits and curls into his side. "And I want to talk to you about something."

 _Oh, Kate. I know we need to talk about what happens next. Your mother's soul can rest in peace, your long quest is done, our future looks both brighter and more perilous than we could've expected based on our abilities… But I need to see my girl before I can focus on a serious conversation._

Castle pulls Beckett closer with an arm around her shoulder while releasing a large sigh. "That doesn't sound good."

"It's not bad," Beckett promises, rubbing his thigh with an open palm but being careful to stay south of anything they don't have time to pursue right now. "We just need to be ready for a rough welcome."

"What?" Castle asks in surprise. "I can hide her when she arrives, and we can teach her how to hide her light a little later, after things have settled down. If she hasn't already figured it out from the notes I left her. We'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about that – you're an excellent teacher and she's an even better student," she praises, watching Castle inflate proudly with both comments. "I'm talking about her arrival. I know you, Rick," she reminds him softly. "I love you, remember? I know you're keyed up, desperate to see Alexis again," she says while placing a sweet, gentle kiss to his cheek. "But you can't rush in and sweep her into a hug like I know you're planning," she says while pulling back enough to get a good look at him. His look of confused embarrassment confirms her assumption.

"Let her come to you, Rick," Beckett advises softly. "Just as I'll let dad come to me. The last time they saw ' _us_ ,'" she says with air quotes, "we tried to kill them. They know it wasn't really us, but it might take a little while for them to remind themselves that we're safe."

Castle's head falls as he stares at his feet and Beckett, who was expecting this reaction, is still nearly undone by his heartbroken look. "Don't worry, Babe. It'll work out, we just need a little time."

 _Okay, Kate, okay. I can wait, if you're there beside me_.

Castle pulls her tight and has no doubt she knows what he's thinking.

"Once things have settled down," Beckett breaks into their calm quiet, "can I borrow Alexis for a minute?" Beckett asks, surprising Castle. "I want to thank her," she explains. "Before we met your father, you said that she set us up to get me here in the loft – I want to say thanks," she says while looking alluringly shy.

Castle's moving in to deliver his own gentle kiss when the rattle of the doorknob shortly precedes the door opening wide. They're both on their feet and moving toward the entryway without thought, but it's actually Castle who stops first, extending a hand to Beckett to get her to stop beside him.

 _And to help hold me back._

Martha's boisterous voice, which sounded like it was cheering their group along, trails off as she ushers Alexis through the door. The young woman takes a few steps then stops short, staring at her father. Beckett squeezes Castle's hand in support before releasing it, proud that he's not rushing Alexis.

Alexis takes a tentative step, then another, while staring into Castle's eyes. After the third step, she throws herself forward, nearly tackling her father who can finally, finally wrap his arms around her.

"Daddy," Alexis murmurs over and over, relief and love and fear and longing all swirling in that simple word.

"Welcome home, Baby Bird," he mumbles into her hair.

Beckett can barely see them through the tears in her eyes, so she's surprised by a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning to see her father looking shy with arms slightly extended, Beckett greets her father as Alexis greeted hers.

Then it's almost a square dance, with tearful hugs extended with a constantly changing set of partners. With an " _Oh, Katherine!_ ," Beckett's greeted by a tearful Martha, who thanks her generously for protecting her son. Jim, while flatly rejecting Castle's heartfelt thanks for protecting Alexis, instead thanks him for helping 'Katie-Bug.'

 _No need to thank me for that. It's something I hope to do for the rest of my life. Which probably won't be long if I call her Katie-Bug._

Jenny, feeling a little out of place, is shocked by the enormous hug bestowed by Castle, who lifts her into the air and spins her around while thanking her profusely for her sneakiness. Kevin gets a cuff on the shoulder for the same thing before Castle bestows a hug on him. Even Esposito suffers through a brief bro-hug with a minimum of grousing. But it's Beckett who shocks her team the most, both by letting her happy tears fall freely and by the thankful kiss that finds a cheek of each of her partners.

 _Don't get any ideas. She's taken._

"We're gonna let you all get settled in," Esposito says uncomfortably while failing to realize that he's wearing a dopey smile. "Enjoy some family time. From what Gates said, things are going to be busy for a while – sounds like you two really stirred something up," he says with an inquisitive look before Ryan swats his shoulder.

"Later, Javi," he says while Jenny takes his hand. "Let them relax first. _Then_ we'll bury them in stakeouts and paperwork."

With rolling eyes, backslaps, and another round of hugs, the small, mixed family sees Esposito, Ryan, and Jenny to the elevator after their kind refusals to stay for dinner. The walk back to the loft is quiet and nearly surreal for the stark difference from the stress, tension, and terror of the last several days.

 _Here you go, Kate._

"Mother, Jim, will you give me a hand in the kitchen?" Castle asks slyly after they're back in the loft with the door locked and alarm set. Beckett casts him a grateful glance before drawing Alexis aside, moving into his office for a private chat.

"Are you really okay?" Castle asks as he sets out the food, which Martha and Jim ferry to the table.

"We're fine, Richard," Martha assures him, though the lack of a teasing or acerbic follow-up comment suggests that she's still a little out of sorts. Castle, showing uncharacteristic restraint, says nothing and instead extends a gentle hand to cup his mother's cheek before replacing it with a kiss.

"Thank you both for taking care of our family," he says before turning to withdraw the ceramic container from its place in the warm oven, using the movement to distract himself. Standing up, he sees Martha dabbing at her eyes with a tissue Jim offered.

"Stop it, Richard," she chastises her son with a laugh. "We're going back to normal, right? No more maudlin discussions or emotionalism. Back to tough love," she says with gentle, pretend slaps to his cheek as she floats by him to take her place at the table.

"Right," Castle says with a laugh. "Because the last family dinner we had here ended up being so normal," he says while shaking his head and recalling his ex-wife's eventful surprise visit the first time Jim dined at their home.

"Please," Martha says waspishly, "the less said about that visit, the better."

"I don't know," Castle disagrees, his recollection of that evening reminding him to retrieve candles for their dinner, "that evening turned out beautifully."

"It was certainly interesting," Jim says with a laugh, which Martha gladly joins.

Castle's just trying to decide between taking a seat at the table and calling to Beckett and Alexis when his office door opens and they emerge. Beckett has her left arm around Alexis' shoulders while she holds a small, wooden box in her right hand. Alexis is laughing, looking lighter and happier than Castle would've expected after their emotional reunion.

 _Thank you, Kate. This is a perfect example of why it should be "sooner" now. There's a ring in my office that you and I are going to talk about very, very soon in the hope of making scenes like this happen more often._

"So, another successful Beckett interrogation?" Castle asks as they approach the table, prompting a blush from his daughter. "Did she confess to using her devious wiles to orchestrate our current living arrangements?"

"What's this?" Martha asks, watching her granddaughter carefully before turning to Jim. "Don't tell me they finally figured it out?"

 _Are you kidding me?_

Her comment causes a laugh from Jim and incredulous looks from Castle and Beckett. "You knew?" they both ask at the same time, Castle of his mother and Beckett of her father.

Looking put out when the other three laugh, Beckett and Castle just look at each other and shrug, too happy with the outcome and the comradery to complain about being the only ones unaware of the ruse.

Joining their family at the table, Beckett and Alexis take their places. Beckett places the box on the table in front of her before looking up. "Oh, good, you remembered," she says while inspecting the table and taking note of the candles. "May I?" she asks with eyebrow cocked.

"Please," Castle answers with a grin. As they did at the last dinner, the candles flicker to life, Beckett standing to bow at the smattering of mirthful clapping offered by the four around the table. Just to show off, she dims the regular lights to make the evening a little more cozy.

"The last time we were all together at this table," Beckett says, slowly making eye contact with everyone at the table, "we were trying to create a new normal, a chance to just spend time together. We tried not to make a big deal out of the evening, but we still started with some announcements."

Each person at the table remembers the evening, the discussion of Jim's recovery and Martha's beautiful toast on the occasion of Beckett and Castle finally finding their way to each other. Even Alexis, who'd been reticent back then, looks happy in her recollections.

"I know we have harrowing stories to tell about what happened to us the last few days," Beckett continues, her somber tone dampening the smiles a bit. "But maybe we can save those for later, after a happy meal together?"

 _What are you up to, partner?_ Castle thinks as the heads at the table nod to Beckett's suggestion.

With the consensus of the group, Beckett slides her plate forward to make room in front of the box in front of her. Gently lifting the hinged lid, she pauses a moment, not letting the lid fall open lest people see inside.

"So, show-and-tell instead of announcements this time," she says with a mischievous smile. Reaching into the box, she retrieves a pair of handcuffs and sets them on the table.

 _Beckett! Not in front of our family!_

"Oh, come on," Alexis complains. "You're not going to have a go at me for deceiving an officer of the law, are you?" she teases. "I thought you said you were glad I tricked you!"

"I am," Beckett confirms with a laugh. "No, these cuffs had to be retired after they went into the water. Rick was wearing these cuffs on the night he told me about his abilities, when he went into the river to heal after saving us from a very hungry tiger."

From the shocked looks around the table, it looks like their family might not have realized how close a call they'd had with the tiger, even though they joked about it later. Before anyone interjects with unfortunate questions, Beckett keeps talking.

"Don't worry about the tiger," she says with a laugh, "it gets worse. This," she says as she extracts what looks to be an ordinary electrical wire, "was part of the detonator on a nuclear bomb that Castle disarmed as part of our case that led to him being freed."

"Nuclear bomb…," Jim murmurs in shock as Martha and Alexis look on in disbelief.

 _Um, Beckett? What are you doing? My family will never let me near the precinct at this rate._

"These," Beckett continues, ignoring the shocked looks to continue her presentation by setting a few tiny metal fragments on the table between the cuffs and the wire, "are bullet fragments that they pulled out of my chest, the day Castle saved my life and made me a Gamma, not that we figured that out for a long while," she says with a laugh, even though everyone else at the table is too shocked to react.

"Those were in you?" Alexis asks in a low voice.

"And this," she says while continuing her presentation by extracting a shiny penny, "could be my downfall. This penny is evidence of my theft, of me turning my back on my professional responsibilities and _stealing_ something in front of a roomful of witnesses. This is the penny I knelt on after finding Rick and Martha in a bank's vault after Rick used his abilities to keep everyone safe from the explosion. It's the penny I was kneeling on when Martha interrupted the kiss that I was so desperate to give her son."

 _Thanks, Mother,_ Castle thinks, while Martha has the good grace to blush.

"An explosion at a bank?" Jim asks in concern.

"All of this," Beckett says with a small sweep of her hand, "is evidence of our story – the connection we share. Each piece is significant because of our Gamma abilities. But each one is more important because it's a small piece of a perfect moment of love or devotion."

As she trails off, it's obvious that Beckett's now concentrating on the objects before her. Slowly, the cuffs lift into the air, floating a foot above the tabletop before they stretch taut. Something unseen severs the chain so that each cuff floats with a dangling set of links. While those return to the table, a piece of the severed link remains floating. It's joined by the wire, from which a small piece is detached. The penny receives the same treatment.

As Castle is so fond of doing with his fireballs, Beckett extends a closed hand so that the three bits of metal hover above it before compacting into tiny balls that start to orbit her hand. The bullet fragments lift and join the dance, so that her hand is surrounded by six tiny planets.

"Ready?" Beckett asks in a playful voice. She then opens her palm, revealing a larger bead of a shiny silver metal. As that bead rises, the six smaller bits follow, dropping into a tighter and tighter orbit until they melt into the shiny bead. Then the bead itself flattens into a disk before starting to spin in the air.

"I call heads," Castle jokes as he watches the twirling metal. Following his lead, Beckett catches the metal disk in her hand and slaps her other hand atop to hide the result. Peeking into her hands, she looks at Castle before peeking again into her hands. With great fanfare, she removes the top hand, revealing not a disk but a shining metal ring.

 _What the…?_

"There was another announcement at our last dinner that we need to revisit, a promise that I made. One that can't wait any longer," Beckett says with a blinding smile accentuated by the happy tears running down her cheeks. "Richard Edgar Alexander Rodgers Castle, will you marry me?"

….

Not for the first time, the beautiful woman in front of him seems to have rendered Castle completely speechless. He's looking into Beckett's eyes with such unbridled hope and affection that she can't help but let her smile grow even wider.

Their silent communion isn't sufficiently satisfying for the others at the table, though, especially Alexis, who gives her dad a whack on the shoulder. "Dad! Wake up! Say yes before Kate comes to her senses!"

So, with Jim and Martha laughing in the background and Alexis almost squeaking in excitement, Castle stands and offers a hand to Beckett. Still staring at each other, Castle finally manages to find his voice. "Kate," he murmurs in a low, dazed voice. "I can't imagine my life without you," he confesses. "Yes. _Yes._ _**Yes!**_ " he says with building volume, ending in an exuberant shout.

 _You might have gone first, Kate, but you're not going alone._

Beckett looks at him oddly when he keeps his hand extended from his celebratory fist-pump. At least until a blue box floats in from the office, settling gently into his palm.

"Great minds think alike," he says as he opens the box to display the exquisite ring within. "It's almost like we're connected or something."

Sobbing a laugh, Beckett joyously and quickly plucks the ring from the box, goggling at the size of the diamond. Then, as if standing before an altar, they quietly slip the rings onto each other's fingers, with Beckett showing off again by adjusting the size of Castle's ring to make sure it fits well. The following kiss is passionate enough to cause groans from Jim and Alexis and loud whistles and catcalls from Martha.

When they break apart they're surprised to find themselves surrounded, their family unwilling to let the moment pass without sharing in hugs and fawning over the new jewelry. It takes several long minutes to calm down and return to their seats and a few more minutes before their hunger fights past their happy smiles to encourage them to finally serve the meal and start to eat. Both Beckett and Castle occasionally drop their food or miss their mouths with their forks, their aim disrupted by gazes that drift to their rings.

"I take it," Castle finally speaks over the general bubbling of contentment while looking from Beckett to Alexis and back, "you two spoke about more than our living arrangements when you retreated to the office?"

"Perhaps," Beckett answers cryptically while Alexis giggles.

"Uh oh," Castle adopts a fake frown. "What else did you talk about?"

"Well," Beckett drawls, catching eyes with Martha and Jim to make sure they're paying attention to this discussion, too, "we might've talked about one other thing, too."

"Dare I ask?" Castle hazards, recognizing that he's being set up.

"We've met incredible Gammas," Beckett answers, looking around the table. "But as much as they knew about what we can do, no one had ever heard of a connection like ours. No one had even considered that it might be possible," she confesses proudly.

"And…?" Castle prompts, knowing that he's walking into a trap but unable to contain his curiosity.

"And that made us think," Beckett answers, sharing a quick wink with Alexis. "Remember how I felt the sting when Meredith slapped your cheek, or how you felt it when I got hurt?" she asks, getting a hesitant nod in return. Martha's biting her finger, apparently having figured out what Beckett's talking about and driving Castle's curiosity to fever pitch.

"We can feel what happens to each other," Beckett reminds all of them around the table. "Thanks to our connection, when we choose to provide Alexis with a sibling," she says with a saucy look, "it's entirely likely that you'll be the first man in the history of the world to actually experience labor and delivery pains."

 _Oh, crap._

* * *

A/N: You made it! For all of those who followed this crazy story to the end, you have my sincere thanks. Reading this story required a bit of a leap of faith considering the bizarre start. The PMs, reviews, and follows provided fantastic encouragement to see it through to the end. You might remember that I thought about closing the story after Chapter 10. I'm glad that it went a bit longer.

For those who've asked, this might not be the end of stories in this universe. I've left a few plotlines open for sequels, and the characters themselves provide plenty of opportunity for further exploration. Or maybe just an epilogue with a hapless Castle being run in circles by little Gamma-tots.

Before I finish, though, a few comments:

\- I'm still blown away by how kind people have been in helping nurse this story along. GeekMom, Aalon, WRTRD, and Garrae especially have provided great help, even if they don't know it. And CaskettFan5 was kind enough to read the first three chapters way back before I started posting this. He could've easily said ' _what is THIS supposed to be?!'_ but instead provided great encouragement. His PMs also kept me honest and thinking along the way! I'm also really grateful to the reviewers who commented throughout the story, especially those who commented in a foreign language – that's dedication!

\- Epilogue/sequels or not, it goes without saying that one of their undisclosed Gamma powers is an ability to warp space-time to remove any ridiculous unknown marriages that might later prove inconvenient.

\- A few people were fundamentally disturbed by Castle's dad being an adversary, especially after the arm-breaking departure. The opportunity to re-cast him appealed to me, though, so I followed through. I mentioned in a few PMs that I had a crazier option for Jackson that ended up on the cutting-room floor, but that I'd share when the story ended. So, here it is: during a brief fit of lunacy, I actually thought about having Jonas reveal himself as Jackson in disguise. Aside from the pure shock value, though, that didn't really fit and it cheapened some of the interactions (particularly the discussion following the Gates-Jonas meeting), so I shook off the thought and kept going. It was a fun thought experiment, though.

\- I appreciate that folks might not like the decision to leave Bracken's partner unnamed, but I liked that approach better, for the reasons Beckett explained. I don't think "LockSat" appears anywhere in this story, by design.

\- For those who asked, yes, that was a reference to Elena Markov in Chapter 29.

So, what's next? First, a small break to catch up on some other stories and to read a book. If you've read Running Water, you've seen a few notes about Neil Gaiman. Well, I've been so wrapped up in writing that I haven't taken the time to read his new book. After that, though, I'll turn back to Her Own Worst Enemy. Next or at the same time is a season 3 story tentatively entitled One Quarter. That'll be my first story that's completely outlined at the start. I've also got another season 8 story in mind and an AU, but we'll see where things go and what time allows.

Finally, I'll repeat the request I made at the end of another story. If you've made it to the end, I'd really appreciate a note on what you liked or what you didn't, whether the shifting perspectives worked or was a distraction. And for those of you who expressed justified doubt at the outset of this odd story, I'd like to know if you made it through to the end!

The End (at least for now).


End file.
